They tell you get the money,

Lyrics

(Verse 1)
Yo, check the weather, it’s a cold world, frozen on the block
Counting up the minutes on a rusty-bezel clock
Staring at the asphalt, plotting on a German whip
An E30 box-body, praying that the tires don't slip
But it’s a hard hustle, fingers numb inside the wool
Trying to push a heavy weight while the gravity pull
Man, if you can drive the block, you can drive through the pain
Navigate the potholes, E36 steering through the pouring rain
They tell you get the money, but they never show the map
Got me trapped inside the labyrinth of this boom-bap
Eyes wide, looking at the prize through the steam
Chasing after headlights, living for the Beemer dream. 

(Chorus)
BMWs in the mist, we out here chasing the ghost
Trying to survive the winter where it hurts the most
From the freeze to the concrete, we hold the design
Hard hustle on the avenue, we putting in time
Yeah, we putting in time. 

(Verse 2)
It’s a mental calculation just to keep your head straight
Gotta worry about the move, gotta worry about the gate
You gotta drive to get it, can't be waiting on a hand
Need an E38 luxury sedan to build the whole land
And the climate is shifting, degrees dropping low
Watch the thermometer sink while the dividends grow
It’s hitting fifty-two... click, tick, down to fifty-four...
Now it’s fifty flat, freezing right outside the door!
The air is biting sharp, got me locking my jaw
Inline-six screaming, trying to dodge the law
Every block is an obstacle, every turn is a test
M3 badges on the trunk, no time for the rest. 

(Chorus)
BMWs in the mist, we out here chasing the ghost
Trying to survive the winter where it hurts the most
From the freeze to the concrete, we hold the design
Hard hustle on the avenue, we putting in time
Yeah, we putting in time. 

(Bridge)
(Beat drops out, just a echoing bassline and a vinyl scratch)
Cold hands on a leather wheel, plotting my escape
Windows getting foggy from the breath inside the tape
They see the silver emblem, but they don't see the scars
We navigating baseline alleys just to reach the stars
Yeah, turn the ignition... let the engine breathe
We too far in this hustle now to ever leave.
(Snare hits hard, beat drops back in full) 

(Verse 3)
Feel like I’m retaining water, heavy weight in my chest
Pressure building in the city, never letting me rest
I feel it right here, the stress is making a home
Stuck inside the cold perimeter, pacing alone
But I ain't too broken, nah, I ain't too deep
Hellrot red paint glistening while the rest of them sleep
I adapt to the weather, let the temperature drop
Keep the focus on the steering till we pull to the top
From the fifty-degree chill to the heat of the exhaust
We standardizing the gains, we recalculating the loss
So let the breakbeat roll, let the horn sample cry
We gonna park that ultimate machine under the sky. 

(Outro)
Yeah... E30, E36, E38.
Fifty-two, fifty-four, fifty flat.
Still standing right here.
Boom-bap till the tank is full.
We out.