Pull Up

Mirror shades in the back of the club, I Don't dance, I design the vibe. Talk cheap, all my silence loud, walk through place Like I own the vibe. City lights on my chrome reflection, no directions, I'm direction. Leather seats, my confession booth, Squeeze my fruit and eat the smooth. Pull up, clean, dust, no rush, still crush. Turn heads, just blush, on the wave, They hush. Pull up, clean, no dust, No rush, still crush. Turn heads, just blush, on the wave, They hush. Pull up, lights flash, Low tone, pure cash. Every move so lush, in my lane, No clash. I don't chase trends, I bend them Slow. Engine hums like it's in control. Gold chains swing, not the flex to warn. You can't hear me, it's never been born. Silk on skin, neon chrome. My kind of throne is a mobile home. No crown, just keys that hum. And a beat that knows when come. Pull up, clean, no dust, no rush, Still crush. Turn heads, just blush, On the wave, they hush. Pull up, lights flash, low tone, Pure cash. Every move so lush, In my lane, no clash.