Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song We Movin, artist - AZ. Date of issue: 20.05.2013
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
We Movin |
| Fresh fruits out the juicer |
| Since juvi jail taught well, I’m a trooper |
| If she can tell it’s a louie smell like a scooper |
| And the black blue is your cell, bumping new fuck |
| Same lusual, linen shorts and loafs |
| Been in forced to coast, contenders call me the ghost |
| Why crope, when women open they throat |
| Sophisticated the dope, with stimulating results |
| The soul still afloat, still a mill in the vote |
| Still appeal to the real when it’s wrote |
| Proper approach I play, check the resume |
| Fuck what the records say |
| Only a few of the fire could really rap this way |
| Chick fetish, I ball with the bricks bedded |
| No daughters the dick’s leverage |
| It’s nothing to discredit, embedded |
| Born with it, my vision was all vivid |
| I’m living and all did it |
| Decisions is more digits |
| More explicit, more deliberative |
| More 'so what is it |
| Son of the starter, my aura is the adora |
| A storm can lead the slaughter on quarters, deep on waters |
| Seek on co morals, speak, speech are farer |
| 2 neat to lauder, 2 at peace for' |
| I applaud you, fold the pressures and duck your broads |
| Tryina destroy your hords of the Pandora |
| Or cam corder, caught with a gram short up |
| Mandatory 5, that’s when nan was alive |
| Rap is in danger man, necklace is saying that shit |
| Give her no dick, that’s how you really restrain a bitch |
| I’m no husein to this rap, hool is who gassiness |
| For every tale spittin, that others claim nigga is crazy with |
| Up in Mercedes whips, new Gucci glue lady kicks |
| Here wavy, stay fly in that 80′s tip |
| What can they say to this |
| Let em pray and wiss |
| At any minute, the nigga can hornicate the wrist |
| Slight risk but speak truth the great zeus |
| All I do is just fuck noth and eat food |
| From v troops to Venezuela |
| Sent the tell up, it’s all done for the century |
| So it’s in the cellar |
| Hey fella, only few can measure |
| Taking papers pleasant, they invitation vanilla |
| The arm legger, arm head with don craig |
| I’m no one to be whack rap know I’m celeb |
| From magic city to miss America pageants |
| Got me passing on pussy never imagine |
| And swiss crashing, eating from leets laughing |
| Sneak a freak, keep up with feet fashion |
| They keep asking how is the shine lasting |
| I’m too ahead of my time to be a husband |
| Rhymes craft that come from fine interaction |
| So niggas passing it’s just a mind of distraction |
| Dinner napkins tuffed in the button up |
| Which mean any medallions ding is covered up |
| Sleeves cuffed, and sippin the tea cup |
| And c money’s like key money, we reeing up. |