Murs & Fashawn - '64 Impala lyrics

[Verse 1: Fashawn] The cannon, he tucked it Underneath his banana republic Hit your man out in public Understand he was thugging Pitching grams you was hustling He ain't scramble for nothing Knew how to handle a onion Done with nickel and dimin' He was getting cosignment Kept a chick in the climate Wanted a '64 Impala Had a clique that was solid Wouldn't snitch on his rivals But his b**h was unloyal Ran her lips to the five-o Takes a sip from the bottle Fills a clip up with hollows Grips on his pistol then he dips with his rollows They on a mission for murder, but all he want is the paper In the Chevy smoking heavy Hennessy with no chase Started of small-time 'till the kid graduated To a contract k**er, jacking n***as for Daytons After he got his rims, got his whip candy-painted Few weeks later he's sitting at his arraignment for a [Hook: Fashawn] '64 Impala, '64 Impala All I wanted was a '64 Impala f** a 600 Benz, give me a '64 Impala Sitting on Daytons, on a mission for dollars In my '64 Impala, '64 Impala All I wanted was a '64 Impala f** a 600 Benz, give me a '64 Impala Sitting on datents, on a mission for dollars [Verse 2: Murs] No matter where you from, the goal has always been To have a '64 Impala, motherf** a Benz Want them hundred spokes, not them low pros I'm f**ing with my folks, they got them low-lows A '96 is dope, a '64 is cla**ic We might just stop to make that motherf**er hop in traffic You see the double S, it's like a turbo jet Free rolling candy, now watch us serve your set You ain't seen nothing yet, we waiting on the other half My baby floating over asphalt like a hover-craft She over 40, bro, but ain't over the hills She stay down for me, so I know that it's real So much chrome in the grill, she lighting up the sky You rolling up on me, but motherf**er, why New pumps with a ten switch box You about to get embarra**ed while your friends just watch, n***a [Hook] [Outro: Fashawn] Only in California