Michael and D-low chilling on the top

Me and D-Lo cruising, past the dreadful heat,
His blacked-out Hemi Challenger, a beast on the street.
That SUV screams, like a spaceship taking flight,
With rims shining deep in the glow of the night.
We’re sliding and gliding, stacking money tall,
Jamming to the beat, having a delightful ball.
At the Gate of Fire, where the legends meet,
It’s Mike B and D-Lo, on Cherokee Street.