Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Groove On , by - AZ. Song from the album Lost & Found, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопRelease date: 17.04.2019
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Quiet Money
Song language: English
Groove On |
| Spark up the trees to the street anthem |
| Firm lounge in the Hamptons on beach Mansions |
| Rich kids got reasons for expansion, sippin' scotch on Yachts |
| We used to hold drops, chop O’s to rocks |
| Left the spot when it’s hot until the snow dropped |
| Now we rock gators low top |
| More Christal to pop |
| Manifest the raw style of Hip-Hop |
| Put rap inside a ziplock |
| Put the map inside a kickbox |
| Let the ship stop, finesse the best Roley wrist watch |
| Hold a brick for every tic-toc |
| Load fifths, let the clip drop |
| You try to get props? |
| fuck around and get your wig popped |
| You’d be better off pumpin' my sound |
| In the Navigator jeep, bitches jumpin' around |
| Skunk by the pound, illin' with pretty Women from outta town |
| Half-a-Mil up in ya system spittin' wisdom rounds |
| Up in ya club gettin' down |
| Doin' the hustle and the bus stop spinnin' Women 'round |
| When in doubt I hear the sounds |
| The illest shit around |
| Show and prove |
| Chorus — This music makes you wanna move, get ya groove on, this music |
| Makes you wanna groove, get ya groove on. |
| (repeat 2X) |
| Verse 2: (AZ) |
| It’s all love, empty out the bar, Benz car |
| Islam, rised to his own, niggas been large |
| Guns blow, when you hear shots run low |
| Playas know, paper chase, stack, play it low |
| Iced out, club nights, cut the lights out |
| Rush ya wifes house, get her whole fam wiped out |
| Quiet storm type, real rich, niggas wan' bite |
| All for all on mics, don’t make me have to show you the light |
| Verse 3: (Half-a-Mil) |
| I’m all for this dough, like the rap Ross Perot |
| Born to blow, on the low, on the corner for dough |
| Flashin' gold, ice Rol, could’ve been on life parole |
| The greatest story ever told, life is cold |
| A hyper soul with a mic I’m a pro- |
| Fessional, unquestionable |
| Pushin' Four Lex’s too |
| Be with mean chicks that like Sexist dudes |
| Push V’s incredible, more degrees than Medical |
| Smoke trees on schedule |
| Verse 4: (Half-a-Mil) |
| We be the crowd movers |
| Niggas is slick but we smoother |
| Maneuever like two Rugers |
| The type of kid to have a chick holdin' a brick between her two hooters |
| I used to ride fixes, now I fly in Sixes |
| Camouflage, survival of the fittest |
| Grand God, America’s the land of ours |
| They band God from the planet hard |
| From the landin' of the Ark |
| To the sparks that brought light out of the dark |
| Simulated Hip-Hop, bring the mics out in the park |
| MC’s used to rap to get props |
| Now we’d rather get Yachts |
| And massive knots, crash drops |
| Cash crops, we came a long way from crack rock |
| It’s been a long day |
| You know how many niggas went the wrong way? |
| Well hey, I’ll still be the God livin' in Ellhay |
| Feel me?, we’re never guilty |
| Super hoes milk me, schiest matters kill me |
| White knowledge healed me |
| For real G, it was predicted in the end |
| Wise Men will acsend lyrically |
| Visually picture me |
| Stick wit' me in this World of mystery |
| You kiddin' me? |
| I’d rather puff Sensee, empty M3's out of MP’s |
| Rock mics, 'cause I can rip these and get G’s |
| Whip Bentley’s from the Projects to NC |
| Show and prove |