Bimmer

You remind me of my bimmer

A lot of trunk space, the perfect two seater

And you got a lot of drive, I'm trying to keep up

But it's not a lot of miles on ya meter, ah

You remind me of my bimmer

See your ignition, baby girl I'm trying to key up

And your head lights are off I'm trying to see 'em

But it's not a lot of miles on ya meter

So let me start it up and smash

Pop some Tame Impala, your man got a lame impala (and it's dark outside)

And I'm sharing slurpees and you ain't even begin to swallow

You're fucking nuts, green top we coupled up

Run my fingers through 'em as you wax and buff my muffler

Because I fingered you, you think the fucking ring is coming up?

Maybe, I don't know, I think you're chill (oh, ride for)

Riding on my pegs, and my back against your legs

And a seatbelt is needed if I get between 'em, yeah

You remind me of my bimmer

A lot of trunk space, the perfect two seater

And you got a lot of drive I'm trying to keep up

But it's not a lot of miles on ya meter, yeah

You remind me of my bimmer

Alright, alright

That was cool, that was alright

Ass and fat bitch, move