The cars we drive are like a human body. When we look good or O.K. our cars look clean, or the term for black people is dirty. But when we look poor our car looks like a mud shape of a car. The car may look good on the outside, but on the inside the car is tore up. So this poem may get you a picture.

If you ride on 20’s and up in the ’Tuck So, put your hand up


We don’t sell drugs,

but we don’t ride on dubs


Plus we ride old school

like we suppost to


We protect our car

like bear protects its cub

We love to act like we too cool

First we get a good paint job


Second we get some rims

But if we do that under a week

we duck Check

We just get our lights dim

The final one we do is

showing off the car and us