Ride, slide, dipping low
Black Cadillac, on them hundred spokes
Ride, slide, smoke control
Black Cadillac, on them hundred spokes
What you gonna do when the shit goes down?
Six misfits rolling through your hometown
'Cause we ride, slide, so hit the floor
Black Cadillac, on them hundred spokes
When the streets grow cold and my sight turns red
Got the pistol grip-hold and a muzzle to your head
Yeah, somebody talked, yeah, somebody said
Yeah, somebody's buried, yeah, somebody's dead
We found my White Wolf stashed in my white ball cap
Got your white ball jacked and my Caddy's flat black
Got the gadgets all wrapped, devil hanging out the back
Now you're just a story on the cemetery track
We lock, and we load, we rock, and we roll
We cock,…
- Hollywood-Undead
- Black Cadillac