[Intro]
Yeah
Lames catch feelings - we catch flights
Scoodododododododododoo
Yeah
Race cars and weed jars... [bad word] 

[First Verse]
I got a style for every bump in your face
Greaseball [bad word] [bad word] Pontiac Judge, open-and-shut case
You know I'm bowtie 'til I die
Though I made an exception for this '69, so quick off the line
Coin double-side, no matter what, we heads up
We in the yard, tell your dogs they should beware of us
We break it off like an engagement gone bad
I fill your jacuzzi with them groupies make it a bird bath, miss me?
No, you didn't, [bad word]  with that [bad word]  miss me
Trynna claim Spitta' name, trynna be "Miss Me"
All of that: kicks to me, silly rabbit trickery
You only around because my spot is where you wish to be
Hope to catch me sleepin' by bein' freaky but baby girl
Let me be the first to say it's not that easy
I wasn't born yesterday nor later on that evening
Just had to get that out the way and make the playing field even

[Hook]
Yeah... uh

Michael Knight
Michael Knight
Michael Knight
Michael Knight
Scoodododododododododoo

[Second Verse]
And the view from the rocking chair improves
But I have yet to see a team [bad word] with the crew
Near and far, I saw it all, wide-frame
Everything with wings ain't a plane mayne
Endo get rolled up like car windows
Avoiding the policemen, them Carl Winslows
The wind blow and change, and I am not mad
All garbage-bag rappers need to find a style fast
It's written all over niggas like a Dapper Dan
Survive rough lands, cactus plants growin' in desert sands
Alive I stand, left for dead, though a [bad word] didn’t die
I got high enough so I could autograph the sky... Fool!

[Hook]