Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Magic Hour , by - AZ. Song from the album A.W.O.L., in the genre Рэп и хип-хопRelease date: 05.09.2005
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Quiet Money Direct
Song language: English
Magic Hour |
| Yeah… poet, politician, playa when necessary |
| This is AZ, I’m your host for the evening |
| It’s Magic Hour… how we gonna do this? |
| No stress, we on the sands in Tahiti |
| Bare chest, you bastards, 30 grand on the pinky |
| Respect, finesse movements like your hands in graffiti |
| Grey Goose, mixed with grape, cran and the kiwi |
| It’s truth holds galore, rose gold, clothes galore |
| Take paper 'til they close the door |
| Either or, corner hustle or hustle on tour |
| To seen it all, nothing left but to stumble no more |
| And the sex is phantasm |
| Flow, campaigns 'em |
| Dough, can’t change 'em |
| Courts, can’t arraign 'em |
| It’s sports, Titanium quartz, Iranian taught |
| I came to enforce, all the bangers is brought |
| Brought the bang at your fort, torch and tangle your thoughts |
| Scorch and stand if you’re short, so of course |
| Just to chill and conversate, kneel and salaam alaik |
| Millions I’m trying to chase, illin' from out the gate |
| Get it right my feelings is not awake |
| Ducatti bikes, shipped from out of state |
| The pressure is on, the blunts is lit |
| My presence is strong, it’s real I’m amongst the mix |
| The Wesson is long, I move like I’m on some shit |
| So testin' is wrong 'cause once guns is drawn, that’s it |
| The beats the rap the game is done |
| We leave, we at, we smack, we bang them guns |
| We beat with bats, we scrap, we came, we come |
| So, peace to that he’s back nigga, one… |
| Yea, Chairman of the Board, man |
| Black Leader, the Mecca Don |
| El Presidente… Ladies and Gentlemen |
| All I do is bring the life to a dead game the moment I came |
| Under my umbrella, my flag, my name |
| If the ship leaving the port, cruise to the resort |
| You can’t be serious baby, this is sport |
| Gotta make my rounds, head wolf of this pack |
| Till it’s me an A' steppin' out of both sides of that Maybach |
| We can eat lovely, just don’t interrupt me |
| And mix all this checkmate with that quiet money |
| I can see it all bubblin' the move is no troublin' |
| I’ma give you the plug and the Sosa |
| They all love CL, no jail for homie |
| Only gotta tell me one time, don’t fuck me Tony |
| Just buy weight fly straight and keep me right |
| And I don’t care what I spend on security |
| It helps me sleep at night |
| See nothing sharp as me |
| You take it in air, you can’t compare |
| To the initials engraved in my office chair |
| The boss is here, we deep in the game |
| You can’t do it the same |
| You gotta bring a strong leash for your dame or pop up |
| Speaking of cheddar, me and son peak it together |
| Can’t feel it’s the real deal or let the meatballs meet the Beretta |
| Smellin' like fresh cut leather |
| Odd color called sarsaparilla |
| The curtain is drawn the seat’s vanilla |
| Let him see heat forever |
| Taking that seat empowers |
| All you want in this Magic Hour |