[Verse 1] Home of the red clay, floor mats dirty Holiday the thirty, 1st & 15th a hurry Creamslushes' flurries, breath smelling dirty Where we in a hurry, believe God is the only No phony, where we ride down on slabs and ponies You know me, Westwood homie, you know me Chop blade wheels hard, New wave here now This game is for real now Same scar...Learn More