I used to want the glamorous life

That's probably unanimous, right

We used to glorify the neighborhood hustlers

Easily impressed by what's in between the bumpers

The southside felt like an art gallery

I knew I wanted that to be a part of my reality

And even if I never get to own a caddy

I wanna be the reason that there's soap in the alley

C.A.D. is my dad's initials

But he had the hots for the Buick Grand National

That's why it's natural for me to interrupt

To say, "If anybody's sellin' one, please, hit me up"

My first car was a seven-deuce Impala

Straight up, it only cost a few hundred dollars

The red paint with all the surface rust

Made it look like a pizza with a burnt-up crust

So many hoopties, you knew I wasn't jokin'

Drove the Mercury Grand Marquis that had the eyes that opened

I had a Wagon, a Fairmont, a Bronco

Another Impala with the double-bent window in the back

Didn't matter if the doors were mismatched

As long as the interior and trim was intact

Stock stereo, original gas cap

I still want the Cadillac Seville with the slantback

I'm not a car person, per se

But I personify my cars in a personal way

I assign it a gender and I talk to it tender

I don't know how to fix her, but I know how to kiss her