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