Letras:
Driver Eight

in back, cuffed Seven hundred dollars Or eight months, son Checked my pockets, but I knew I had none They took away my license They said I can't drive

eating like ray j eat the pussy, Hey check it, I beat the pussy up like kimbo (slicee), Now you know they say your boy ray j he ' s a nympho, Drive it

on Dre's back Payback, homey I'm bringin C.A. back And I don't do button up shirts or drive Maybachs All you old record labels tryin to advance Aftermath

to hear "He say, She say" shit Unless he say she say she on my dick It's no coincidence, niggaz who fuck wit me get shot up I do a Cali style drive by

] One time [TS] Beyotch! [8B] Yeah, you know how they like it baby, nigga you can't retire! [Verse One: Too $hort, Eightball] From nineteen-eighty, through eighty-eight

we'd ride But I was high on a mountain When daddy let me drive When daddy let me drive Oh he let me drive Daddy let me drive It's just an old plywood

down And you don't know what to do Grab your swimming trunks Ice up that old igloo Drive until the map turns blue Daytona Beach on spring break Eighteen

: (D. Cook - R. VanHoy) Ah, backseat, back road, drive-in movie shows Ya got your daddy's car tonight Eight straight hours of old monster movies at

she said Cigarette breath caresses eight letters of death And the stress is a task to the things that she left And everyday it's his feeling that drive