[Hook x2 - Jeremih]
Yeah, I'm in my ol’ skool Pontiac, sippin on that Cognac
Tint black, sit back, bitch, that Cognac
N***as get to talkin what they talkin, they be all of that
Runnin 'round the city someone tell me where the party at

[Verse 1 - Jeremih]
I’ma get this paper, like I did before
Say you feelin low, go on and hit the dro
Cruisin like I’m aimless, n***as famous and I got the dough
I’m a star, so let me shine, n***a, mountain glow
Yeah, I ain't stuntin in this bitch
Say you hurtin, yeah that's sad, but I’m fine in this bitch
Did that song with Fab, but now it's my time in this bitch
Not into the X-Games, but I grind in this bitch
Yeah, think it's fair, think again
Plenty ones, couple fives, stack the tens
Got the tree, break it down, keep the stems
By yourself? Hell naw, bring a friend
N***a I be on that shit that ya’ll ain't heard of
Girl you know your man down, tell me what you scared of?
Gon and lift your skirt up
I know we usually cruisin in the Beamer kinda tired of the Rover
So you probably catch me leanin in my

[Hook x2]
[Verse 2 - Big Sean]
Okay, I’m rollin o-o-o-o-ozo, boi
I’m dumb high, I’m dumb high
Yeah, n***a, Westside, bitch, I run my
Ho slow it down like I got my thumb high
And I got her on her knees like I got my gun high
I’m in my old school, I feel like the alumni
Wishing we could trade cars, comin from the underground
Cause bitch, I’m working grave yard
Car lookin like its sittin on thirty floors, thirty doors, thirty whores
Few black bitches and Fergie whores, n***a this shit look like Jersey Shore
I’m on fire bitch, a loose cannon
My car's Bruce Wayne, I feel like Bruce Banner
Rip her clothes off, car so big gonna whip that shit
Don’t stand too close when I hit them curbs
Motherfucker might clip them toes off
B-I-G, I’m that important
You spend all day with her spooning
I spend all night with her forking in my ol' skool

[Hook x2]

[Verse 3 - Paul Wall]
I'm in a old-school American-made, built in Michigan
Squeezin that wood grain, my fingers keep on blisterin
Haters keep on whispering, talking down and snickering
Cause my name the one the boppers and groupies keep on mentioning
Range Rover, Bentley, and Benz, I’ve done em all
But I’d rather flip a JFK Lincoln on white walls
My motto is grind hard, and paper sure to follow
Philosophy for Franklins is something like Aristotle
Double cup filled to the top, so drive slow
In the ’59 Bonneville with the bumper hanging low
I cruise through the Chi and hit MacArthur's for the munchies
My slab is candy pomegranate, I guess I'm country
Coming straight out of Texas where the old schools rule
Take notes on how I slab, professional act-a-fool in a ol' skool
[Hook x2]