My hooptie rollin', tailpipe draggin'
heat don't work an' my terp keeps naggin'
Ghetto up armored, protection's minimal
"Go to war with the Army you've got" sounds criminal.
Bumper’s all scraped up but made of solid metal,
Scared of our CAS so we strap -17 panels.
Hit the Burger King and my TL starts to freak,
His stomach’s been livin’ on MRE’s for a week,
Patrollin’, my DL’s expired
Marines try to dis an’ say my ride looks tired.