Yeah, the Countache used NACA ducts (my favorite mid-century jet fighter feature) to feed air to the giant V12 in the back. It also had a mirror under the center console cover, so you had a handy tray for your white powder that you need to neatly organize before making your entrance at the club in West Palm Beach
That's the charm. It's not a good car but it is certainly an absolute statement and iconic. That's why something like a Nobel or McLaren doesn't do it for me. Not enough flair and drama, being purposeful is lame with the much money. Live a little, get sideways, chop up some rails on the center console and get roadhead while wearing a polyester leisure suit. It's about the lifestyle
Huh I'ma need a bigger bag for the cohort Tryna make a millionaire out of slum dogs Bet that, head crack, blunt force Cozy with the east Africans up north Where seven make a three, turn a ten by law Crescent moon wink, when I blinked it was gone Left the crib, smacked, no sheath on the sword Made it by the skin of my teeth, thank God '03, momma rockin' Liz Claiborne Had her stressin' up the wall playin' Mary J. songs Rainy day came, couldn't rinse the stains off Long way to go, we already came far Story stayed the same, it was never madе up Threw me loose changе, look at what I made of it When the mood change, I'ma poker-face 'em It's a new day, who got all the aces? Who be foldin' late? Who know when to play dead? Who sit up straight when the roof caved in? Had a full plate, you ain't wanna split it Tell it to you straight, you ain't wanna listen Cup runneth over the brim Bust open, there's no closin' the lid Drumroll, here go my lil' entrance Gung ho, I'm the one that go get it Five O's on me like the Olympics Pure gold, somethin' told me, "Don't mix it" Caught a feelin', momma had me out Temple Not religious, we was really out Philly Livin' on the fly tryna wing it We got us a fire to rekindle Redirect the fight where it's meant for Triumph over plight and immense loss Ride alone at night, I get clear thoughts Caught a couple slights and I veered off Saw another height, had my ears poppin' Walked outside, it was still gorgeous
Sharp incisors reveal slowly In the dark inside, we was real hungry On a seven of the five, we was real hungry Uh, niggas still drummin' Foot shook ground when I stepped on it Didn't look back when I broke soil 'Cause every time I did it would hurt more In the dark inside, we was real hungry On a seven of the five, we was real hungry And I didn't look back when I broke soil 'Cause every time I did it would hurt more
Alright Yessir, this nigga spittin'
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are those air intakes at the back? looks dope
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Yeah, the Countache used NACA ducts (my favorite mid-century jet fighter feature) to feed air to the giant V12 in the back. It also had a mirror under the center console cover, so you had a handy tray for your white powder that you need to neatly organize before making your entrance at the club in West Palm Beach
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All those ducts fed absolute dogshit intake manifold castings. Countaches are trash compared to any of their competitors
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That's the charm. It's not a good car but it is certainly an absolute statement and iconic. That's why something like a Nobel or McLaren doesn't do it for me. Not enough flair and drama, being purposeful is lame with the much money. Live a little, get sideways, chop up some rails on the center console and get roadhead while wearing a polyester leisure suit. It's about the lifestyle
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I would rather drive a Honda civic. It's so much faster
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we used to be a proper country
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