Lyrics La Luna - Action Bronson

La Luna

Yo, yo, I need a car.
I have to go to the garden.
I’m gonna be late.
I need one right now.
Can you please call La Luna?
Alright
(Phone ringing) Hello.
You’ve reached La Luna Luxury Car Unlimited Services.
If you need a ride to the airport call 1−800 airport.
Please hold
Yo, what beat is that, huh?
Oh, that shit is funky, what is that?
Yo, what beat is that?
It’s from the phone
Could rhyme on this.
Oh, hell yeah, hahah, yeah
Came out the pussy wearing Timbs
Oh, my lord, it’s him
Time to put the toys back in the bin
'Cause I’m sick of this shit
Motherfucker sweeter than a licorice stick
And it’s rubbing me the wrong way to say the least
I’ma say my peace
And I’ma breeze in the caprice with the gold seats
Bumpin' Boosie on a slow creep
On Collins Ave looking stoned, man, you know me
Asian shooter with the blonde hair, Street Fighter character
Fuck around and suplex 'em through the salad bar
My life is greenlit, no script
And we all know that money be the motive for this whole shit
Bitch, I’m focused like none other, the number one Don Dada
Drop-top, jokes on the youngster, now look at him
Looking slim in the red '89 Testarossa with the wing
Mind blown
A customer representative will be with you shortly.
Did you know we can get to
you in just seven minutes?
Seven minutes.
Call 1−800−80…
Your shit lack quality
I’m sittin' right behind my chick makin' pottery
My first joint was like an odyssey
The second joint straight raw like the shaman’s feet
Climbed the stairs to the sun
Sacrificed myself for protection of my only son
Keep the bloodline strong while I watch close
To another thousand years, here’s a toast (clink)
Champagne drippin' down the beard hair
Supermodel sucking while I steer the long pink Fleetwood
Roll a big fat blunt so you know I’m gonna sleep good
Now
(Uh)
(Rock-a-bye baby, yeah)
(Rock-a-bye baby, uh-huh)