- Juice Newton Angel Of The Morning 歌词
- Juice Newton
- Stutterin'
Givin'em rest and makin' love again In my best I be the run again And I have the man dem stutterin' I'm getting this ***** in the morning He gon' think he been chiefin just too long when He see me in the evenin' Want to catch all these feelin Well let me be the first to get mine Ay yo, ay yo, barbeque and blow in the back of the crib Sittin’and countin’, smoking a spliff, this *****t’s a gift All my *****s watches is rough Grabbing our crotches yelling ‘’What up?’’ The jeans cost $500? ***** Stop it, keep baking, see, the smell it’s a statement One freeze of this *****t, you won’t feel your legs kid I’m a gangsta corporate hustla, my voice is illustrious Hounded by vicious dons, ***** we armed, trust me bruh They yellin' Chef, kill the plate with the cooks I say 'Ye with 2 Chainz on, we Common, let's Push Burn another bush, then burn another we brothers Love us or not, the Mark Zuckerbergs of the block Hug a knot, staying rich, we was built for the guap Park the green six deuce on the deuce just props Rock a kilt, mean Glock I’m all machinery, ock Cling to me, now see how the scenery rock? I’m getting this ***** in the morning He gon’ think he been chiefin just too long when He see me in the evenin’ Want to catch all these feelin Well let me be the first to get mine I was born by a late chicken shack and a church That mean the flow got wings and it come from the dirt Golly, I know she wanna test the ‘Rari Eye on a dollar like Illuminati Life is foggy, tryin’ to see through the mist of it Could have been livin’ it, you was Mrs. Mischievous This is just a letter to better your development Situation delicate Some claim God body, blame Illuminati All cause his pockets now knotty as his hair Yeah All Sonny no Cher, only solitaires You cluster*****s could cluster up On tippy-toe and still not muster up so its Ashes to ashes, dust to dust In God we trust, the game is all us Til’ the sky calls or its flames on us Push I’m getting this ***** in the morning He gon’ think he been chiefin just too long when He see me in the evenin’ Want to catch all these feelin Well let me be the first to get mine 2 Chainz I’m chillin’ in my camo, flippin’ through the channel On my G.O.O.D. Music *****t, my logo’s a Lambo (damn) Four doors of ammo Ammunition I’m pitchin’ to make your body switch another position I hope the people is listening I could never sell my soul, I gave it back to God at my christening Its tickelin’ when I hear what haters be whisperin’ What makes you think an Illuminati would ever let some *****s in? Fake friends and siblings, like to wish you well but ain’t never flip the nickel in Haters wanna pull they pistol when they see me in this race car But you can’t spell war without an A-R 15 I was pu*****ng carts at K-Mart By 21 they said I’d be inside a graveyard Can’t wait to get that black American Express So I can show them white folks how to really pull the race card Yeah, you feelin’ on top now, getting that money *****? (You sold your soul) Yeah, you feelin’ on top now, getting that money *****? (You sold your soul) Yeah, you feelin’ on top now, getting that money *****? (Naw man, mad people was frontin’ Aw man, made something from nothing) I treat the label like money from my shows G.O.O.D. would’ve been God except I added more o’s If I knew she was cheatin’ I’d still’ve bought her more clothes ‘Cause I was too busy with my Baltimore- you know Some people call that the art of war you know I guess it depends what you fallin’ for The clothes,cars, money, girls and the clothes Aw money, you sold your soul Nah man, mad people was ’frontin God damn, we made something from nothing
|
|