1-8-7...we got [?] that for 9-7...
Nine-six Vogue black Cadillac
Nine-six Vogue black Cadillac
Nine-six Vogue black Cadillac
We smoke-we smoke...

[Verse 1]
We got five true playas
Stayin' high as the Himalayas
In '95 Swishas went out like the L.A. Raiders
But now it's all about the chronic smoke
And I ain't hatin' you can hit it, take a toke, n***a can you cope?
And I'ma bet it's gonna fulfill your needs
And have you lyin' in the weeds
Knocked out like a Tyson swing
Hennessey and cut with a touch of that Tanqueray
I got to stack everyday and get high every day
So true G's stack these to my knees
And pay Double C's
Puffin' on some potent weed
G's to the heart, so n***a you gots ta show me
Some grand felons we aight and only do it by our lonely
Pass the blunt to the right-hand side
And boy it's do or die
Plus we game for life
Sparkin' up the indo, I got the sticky greens
Tilt the 7-Up, mix it with codeine
Leanin', slidin' in my 'Lac when we flip
Sippin' on the syrup, smokin' on that dip
Out to make a million, betta yet a billion
Dollars, in our pockets, y'all can't stop us
A ton of blunts when we roll when we ride
Here the chronic come body numb and I'm high
But I, can't stop 'cause I'm hidin' from the cops
Mackin' on these [?] and the 60s on the slabs
Shabling bling, look who appears
It be that smokey bandit
Loc'd out in the rear
Puffin' on some hella, killa
Dipped in waters, slow motion, coastin'
Sippin' on that Robitussin
In 83's on them low-pro vogues
Got me flippin' straight styles
Cadillac glossin', flossin', never plexin'
I hit the scene sideways
The fly way, and let my Dickies hang

Nine-six-Vogue black Cadillac
We smoke from front to back
A taste to blow your mind
Swangin' from left to right
My G's we love to hang
Flippin' through [?] getting bent all day
Sip syrup, get high for life
Comin' down so real, so tight

[Verse 2]
(It's the bomb bud), puffin' green
(It's the bomb bud), we got the bomb for your brain
(The bomb bud) Smokin' pounds of that stanky dank
And laying down game
MJ pass the sticky green my way
And Flo I heard you had a little bit drink to drank
Some straight [?] dem K.C. killa
So fool catch this wrath of that one-hitta quitta
Come take a toke can you fuck with that chronic smoke
Pass it to the Flo and let the games begin
'Cause I'ma hit it for five and hold it for ten
I got ten to spend on the Hennessy
If you can match this ten you can loc with me
Now y'all done heard it go on but playa tell me did ya feel it
I like to get high when I'm rollin' with my real G's
They bumpin' the side and from the south and to the north
Killas smokin' on that chronic and we can't take no shorts
So I gotta get down, fool let me hit the [?]
You heard me before I had you rollin' in the Caddy

The party's jumpin' now, pass the bone and I ain't leavin'
'Til the early mornin', my beeper's vibrating, who pagin' me?
It's my man where you at and when you comin' home?
Peep game fool I'm headin' for the after-hours
Gettin' bent, fillin' my cup up with that chronic seven
My boy Brew got that 40 ounce side [?]
Bomb bud still blazin' up the chronic boom
Flo crankin' up the switches one time for these snitches
I hear 'em hollerin' (whoooo!)
Lookin' crooked at the black [?] but I don't give a...
I'm with that Mass 187 and we strike [?]
So fuck what you heard

Comin' down, so real and so tight
Nine-six-Vogue black Cadillac
We smoke from front to back
A taste to blow your mind
Swangin' from left to right
My G's we love to hang
Flippin' through the [?] getting bent all day
Sip syrup, get high for life
Comin' down so real, so tight

Verse 3: Fat Pat
Big ballin, smashin, makin my ends
Smokin big killa gettin high in the Benz
Big ballin, smashin, makin my ends
Smokin big killa gettin high in the Benz
In the wind smoke goes as I crawl down on vogues
Twenty Lorenzo, smoke all up in my nose
Yo' eyes, get froze, as you see my low
Candy-red, two-do', let my top down slow
Hittin, my remote, sittin, in my shit
Presidential V-12 with that AMG kit
It don't quit, as I get high
From K.C. to H-Town, connectin SouthSide
Now we worldwide, watch me highside
Fat Pat blowin killa, can't be denied
187 thugs, oh yeah we got love
Blowin' sticky green we flow through and above

Ha! Now let me gamble the [?]
Fools cannot stop me
Smokin' sweets around the H-Town
And we're down, with the birds and [?]
N***as cannot stand me
On this freestyle mix
Speaking about my clique
And Fat Pat, 187 is the crew
Comin' off our head showin' fools that we true
Now if you ain't came to get it on
Then take your dead ass home
And leave the chrome with the fat sack
And two-fifths of yak, Fat Pat in the back
How you n***as like that?
Fully strapped to the max
Plus a bulletproof vest
Rollin' 600 Lex coupe
Hit em in the chest!
Let him rest six down in the ground
N***a what up now? N***a what up now?

So what's up now?
We got pounds of that stanky-dank
We're paid just as sticky as a candy-cane
Takin' out any n***a bandstandin'
Comin' through crip dancin'
With thousand dollar knots in my pants
And Glocks in the peanut butter drop
Bustin' shots n***a straight off the top
Props go to F-A-T P-A-T
Done kicked up with the 1-8-7 Shortstop family

And I be damned if we don't roll [?] hoes break they toes
Walkin' for Fat Pat cause I be the one that's always chose
Blowin' on big killa smoke comin' all up out my nose
Comin' down real slow I got these n***as by [?] like rose
Pedals, n***as catch the footprints on the freestyle man
I'm the Fat Pat do this shit fast as a n***a can
A million miles to run it, smokin' killa like I'm a hundred
Is it 186 or is it 187?
Fool, I'm steppin' with my weapon keep your weapon close
'Cause when I bust n***a, I let these n***as know
That I'm a real G from the south side of K.C
And you can't play me just like you can't see me
On the cuts of the rollin' hundred [?] get my money man
Doin' everythang just as fast as I can man

In this game ain't no smilin' in the cut
'Cause n***as be out to kill a n***a and they don't give a fuck
Like a real true n***a comin' from the south side
Down to kick it with my n***as that's down to hoo ride
Got Troy on the backside, everyday all day
That's how we roll with this K.C. thang now
It's just G's stackin' them G
Smokin' on the killa weed
N***a I thought you knew you can't see me
Little [?] you be in the cut
Smokin' nuthin but that fire-ass smokey ass skunk
So uh, ya better come on in or get the fuck out
'Cause I be rolling with them n***as from the South

It's time for this shit to blow up 'cause I've been down for too long
Put a grand on this bitch, tap into savings and loan
Clique up the 1-8-7 'cause I've been down to [?]
Sip syrup, flip bourbon, smoke weed and get high
Move five birds a week I gotta hustle to eat
Blaze sweets in my spliffs be on that midnight creep
Moonlight dreams of candy-coated Lex drippin' wet
Sloppin' syrup on the set of the [?] when I flex
Comin' down, so real, so tight

Nine-six-Vogue black Cadillac
We smoke from front to back
A taste to blow your mind
Swangin' from left to right
My G's we love to hang
Flippin' through the [?] getting bent all day
Sip syrup, get high for life
Comin' down so real, so tight

Yeah n***a what you think about that, n***a!
Y'all don't understand this shit
Grabbin' the nutsacks
Yeah, 9-7, Mass 1-8-7 baby in this beeyotch

Y'all silly
That's it right?