I like my beat down low and my top let back Can see me ridin' twenty-fours with a chopper in the back Ya like ya Kenwood hot and ya top let back If ya rims sit high and ya windows pitch black I like my top let back, let back, let back, let back, let

Stand up on your seat with your dirty feet Fan the flames of love A classy action suit to dance in Break a window and let the sun in Break the silence, it's not a sin Tear down the walls of hate Fill up the empty bowls of the hungry Break the sacs and

Well up here's the window sitting way up high I can't look up enough to see the sky There ain't no good light here below Don't want no preacher man to come around I don't need him to lay my burden down Alright, I told Jesus everything I know When it's

Johnny Cash The windows cracked on the Chevrolet My cigarettes in the ash tray The engines off and the radio's, down So nervous my whole body shakes The parking lot's full of people and They ready to see the preacher man Time to open up for the main act

Turn the key, turn the volume up to loud Roll right, roll every window down Let the whole block know what this is about That beat is hot This is how it goes Welcome one and all to the show

Into our life again Turn your lights down low And I want you to know right now And pull your window curtains Oh, let Jah moon come shining in Sayin' ooh, it's been a long, long (long, long, long, long) time I kept this message for you, girl But it seems

Turn up the music loud Take the T top down And let the chrome shine Cruise along the river side Feel the wind blow Through your hair through your toes Got your bare feet hanging out the window Oh oh oh, oh oh oh oh I saw a red Camaro today

I got that Trunk Muzik To the DJ's Out cruisin' Everybody hop in the Cadillac And outta back I'ma throttle the Chevrolet's With the bottom won't you roll the window down If ya cruisin' Alabama's unanimous animal Yelawolf On the eight O eight come and

I don't even try Put your hands on the wheel Let the golden age begin Let the window down Feel the moonlight on your skin Let the desert wind Cool your aching head Let the weight of the world Drift away instead

Trouble, but ain't we all? Standing in the window with his tongue hanging out Like the king of something evil in a year-long drought With a dirty white suit, a big white hat A bullet in his pocket, no matter where he's at He's trouble, but ain't we all?