Deacon the Villain - P.T.A. (Planes, Trains, Automobiles) lyrics

King Tee M.A J-Ro (J-Ro) P.K (it's the mix) L.A [Verse 1: Masta Ace] I want my name on a big banna, word to my nanna A red bone in Atlanta, one in Savannah Tell em both get tanna, you too white like Vanna Sit 'em on my lap like Santa I want a sky blue Cadillac, wit' a 8-track and a floor model T.V. in da back So I can race Shaq straight down LaBrea Last one to get to Roscoe's buys tha waffles I be the man in the club spot, I want tha mansion And tha yacht, like Elmer Fudd got Did Hammer sell that house yet? I wanna buy it And rent each room out fo' a grand, like the Hyatt I want my own football team, and stadium Hey, f** platinum, I wanna go uranium [Verse 2: King Tee] I had dreams of f**in an R&B s*ut Plus I'm tryin ta be tha first in tha bently truck On twenty-fo inches of chrome, tight sh** 8 TV's an'a satellite dish Playa hata waita cuz a n***a might switch Two thou', three V-dozen white six No matta what they do, boo, they can't see Tee All these n***as frontin in their crib on M.T.V I gotta castle Wit' a draw bridge, no ha**le Let tha chariot swing low, go grab 'em Take 'em to tha airstrip, catch tha airship Back to tha hub city, ????? (woo) [Hook] I just love that whip appeal 'specially all that sh** ya feel I'm not gon' lie, I'mma tell you tha deal I want planes, trains, and automobiles If you don't know what I mean Jump inside so fresh and so clean (say what?) I'mma let you n***as know how I feel I want planes, trains, and automobiles [Verse 3: Masta Ace] I want a flawless Benz wit' gorgeous rims So I can drive around, grinnin in my drawers 'n' tim's These hata's hopin all dis ends Score sum lawya's as friends What I really want? It all depends I wanna be tha man in tha halfayear So I can ball out in Cleveland like a Cavilier I wanna check wit' six zeros, two commas Sean Jean slippas an', Fubu pajamas [Verse 4: J-Ro] I drove down rows, and buy everything sold b**hes so cold they s** like, black holes Roll thru tha mall, smokin like broken stoves Stroll wit' King Tut gold thru orange chronic groves Flows as hard as frozen poles Wit' tha sold out shows that pack tha Rose Bowl Pocket's so swoll I can buy ya soul Mack an Ro want tha globe Ballin' outa control [Hook]