Suzuki Peaches - Choker

Man I need that fuckin' 449cc shit, my nigga

That 4 stroke

(OK)

5 speed, nigga, straight up

(5 speed)

Straight out the Suzuki catalog, you feel me like

Halo

Fire it up

Lighting it up

Yeah, woo

And it look like peaches in motion

On that side street we burning the asphalt

It’s my fault

I turned fast, my bad

Straight from the catalog

You don’t want a Honda

You don’t want a Yamaha

Suzuki

Twisting ballerina, whistle ocarina

That extendo-seater (Speed)

Spike like cowboy bebop

Yeah, that rubber heat up

Baby, can you keep up?

Can you?

Can you?

Red handles, ooh la la

(He got the red joints)

Red handles, ooh la la

Red handles, ooh la la

(He got the red joints)

Red handles

And when the paint job chip

It is what it is

Is what is

It is what it is

I try not to

Think about it too much

Try not to

I’m not tripping

I’m not thinking about when we copped that

Take it to a shop for a paint job

You said you like apricot

I’m like nah, can’t do that

Need that atomic tangerine

That glossy, that candy

And it look like peaches in motion

On that side street we cut up

Baby napalm, firecracker

Just because I’ll open up

For you

For you

Big talk, psych

Little talk, siding with the rush