Lyrics

I got this 89-90, Pistons champ flat/ bill black starter cap with the hologram tags
White Mag rims, red rubber tires
Chain, frame, pegs, grips, shift to my supplier
Dope man attire, gimme bout an hour
And I'll have it clicking, ticking, gliding, flying like McGuyver
I'm a Murder Club, dope pedal rider
Nigel said I'm good to get that ink on my bicep
I gets, busy as a bee on my bike grips
If I catwalk this, I walk, I can fly this
Bitch and I'm fly, and it's tied to the side
that's the flag that I'm flying
Add to the fact that it all coincides with these wheels that I'm riding
3pt Mags make you think that I'm gliding
... Shiiiit nigga I aint lying
I got a long rap sheet that'll say that I'm tied in

Chorus

Verse (Mikey):

I hit chuck on the pager yo, I'm kinda bored
And got class til later so, open garage
And I don't really know which way to go, I aint tryna skate it though
And my bikes illegal, so they send for the law
But I don't care joe, I just keep on pedalin
Ride past shorty light skinned with no melanin
Shirt look like somebody stuffed two melons in
Had to stop, so I could preach like revered
I grip on the handbrake and say "Whatup?"
I skip on the handshakes, I'm straight. What else?
I got two pegs on the back, and you got two legs under your skirt
So ho, we head
To the Dope Pedal Headquarters
You would be there if you could
Chuck got the red wheels and the white mags, but it's all good
Got the gold hundred spokes like Boys in the Hood
With the lime green frame, dollars on the bike
Seat, handlebar grips, is the same as my Nikes
In the mold, the gold I use for my spokes
And the frame, the same as I use for my chain Out!

Chorus