Murs And Fashawn - 64 Impala Lyrics
[Verse 1: Fashawn]The cannon, he tucked itUnderneath his banana republicHit your man out in publicUnderstand he was thuggingPitching grams you was hustlingHe ain't scramble for nothingKnew how to handle a onionDone with nickel and dimin'He was getting cosignmentKept a chick in the climateWanted a '64 ImpalaHad a clique that was solidWouldn't snitch on his rivalsBut his ***** was unloyalRan her lips to the five-oTakes a sip from the bottleFills a clip up with hollowsGrips on his pistol then he dips with his rollowsThey on a mission for murder, but all he want is the paperIn the Chevy smoking heavy Hennessy with no chaseStarted of small-time 'till the kid graduatedTo a contract killer, jacking niggas for DaytonsAfter he got his rims, got his whip candy-paintedFew weeks later he's sitting at his arraignment for a[Hook: Fashawn]'64 Impala, '64 ImpalaAll I wanted was a '64 Impala***** a 600 Benz, give me a '64 ImpalaSitting on Daytons, on a mission for dollarsIn my '64 Impala, '64 ImpalaAll I wanted was a '64 Impala***** a 600 Benz, give me a '64 ImpalaSitting on datents, on a mission for dollars[Verse 2: Murs]No matter where you from, the goal has always beenTo have a '64 Impala, mother***** a BenzWant them hundred spokes, not them low prosI'm *****ing with my folks, they got them low-lowsA '96 is dope, a '64 is classicWe might just stop to make that mother*****er hop in trafficYou see the double S, it's like a turbo jetFree rolling candy, now watch us serve your setYou ain't seen nothing yet, we waiting on the other halfMy baby floating over asphalt like a hover-craftShe over 40, bro, but ain't over the hillsShe stay down for me, so I know that it's realSo much chrome in the grill, she lighting up the skyYou rolling up on me, but mother*****er, whyNew pumps with a ten switch boxYou about to get embarrassed while your friends just watch, nigga[Hook][Outro: Fashawn]
