Testi:
Chris Lane

the drop is holding The bumper kit's reclining, and the top is folding I'm a grain gripper, candy paint stain dripper 84 swang flipper, and a lane to lane

be nigga In a old school Impala, cocked up on three nigga One in the air swanging, one on the back hanging Trunk just banging, me I'm just swanging Lane to lane

(Chris de Burgh, Albert Hammond) I don't mind this empty room, and I like it when I'm alone, I'm trying not to think about you, I'm not waiting by the

pretty boy I brought chris breezy with me I be throwin' up my cash, actin' like money ain't a thang, yeah (yeah) I'm speedin' down this fast lane, stuntin

a hustler ya know [Chris Ward] You see I rap, like it's Christmas time Shine harder than your neighborhood nigga, during Christmas time You hear a flow, that's a Chris

, you was too soft to roll Talkin' 'bout you a brave Pac Nah you a fake Pac I get down and take blocks You bend down and take cock Cause Chris Lightys

cars Sittin there wishin they problems became ours Cause we have nothin in common Since I done became star I done became bigger swervin writin in my peer's lane

Doc Bradshaw behind ball plant and steel curtains Denver Bronco fan, glock squirtin' Brick city, steerin' wheel hurtin' Prepare y'all fast cars for lane

play this game Nigga hating on me cause I'm doin my own thang I aint Lloyd Banks, bitch. I dont share your brain I was in the fast lane before the G-Unit