Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Friends, artist - Franck Pourcel. Album song Amour, danse et violons n°37, in the genre Нью-эйдж
Date of issue: 13.10.2011
Record label: Parlophone France
Song language: English
Friends |
Aha, yeah, yeah |
In a world of, larger moves, new cars to cruise |
Sometimes I make the news, falsely accused |
I gotta shake the spot when the stakes is high |
A brother needs space like a vacant lot |
I’m lookin forward to the future, Mase and The Lox |
And my little son Justin, touchin a knot |
You knew I was comin for the crowns that’s uptown |
You knew I was comin to put it down so what now? |
It’s the Bad Boy, pull up and break the clutch down |
In the five-speed, smirkin then pull up at high speed |
Can you enterprise and rise like cream do? |
And leave em talk about the last time they seen you? |
Game is magnet, to everything platinum with my |
Name attached, can you all do that? |
Think one thing when you read my name |
That Puff nigga, the game’ll never be the same |
Chorus: Puff Daddy singing |
What do you do when they |
Love you? |
(Let's) «live your life» |
What do you do when the |
Love turns cold? |
(Let's) «live your life» |
Do you love me baby |
I’ll be your friend |
Do you love me baby |
Though I love you like a brother |
I would rather be your lover |
Verse Two: Foxy Brown |
Erybody wanna be Pam Grier now, stare now |
Wanna know what I wear now, peep the gear now, uhh |
I swear now, I done killed that shit |
Dangerous Na Na, niggas feel my shit, uhh |
Roll for delf, niggas steal my shit sells |
Dunn tripped on Gortex to Pelly Pel |
You’re fuckin with Mel, I have 500 to sell |
Convertible shit, leavin bitches real sick |
Heard he liked to trick nonstop, floss a lot |
Ballers out of town, spots in Adobe cot |
It don’t stop I Fox, floss plenty rocks |
Since eight-nine nigga been pushin, plenty drops |
Nigga keyed up, stash for real |
Twenty G’s please what? |
Fuck the soft shit |
Hundred thirty pounds of raw shit, the flaw shit |
The P.C. |
on some real to Newark shit |
Recall, my whole fam jig the fuck up what? |
Bet-ta chill, 'fore you slip the fuck up |
Get your wig, split the fuck up, nigga lust |
Dangerous, when three general niggas bust |
Infa-wear, but I sips Dom Pierre |
Floss through the ave all them hoes wanna stare |
Oh yeah? |
I’m up in your life, play you trife |
Brook-lyn, bring it on nigga |
Verse Three: Puff Daddy |
Can you feel me baby? |
I been away a long time |
Is it still me baby? |
The one on your mind |
Can we creep when everybody sleepin and find |
Ourselves 'tween satin sheets intertwined |
Can I touch you baby? |
Is that aight witchu? |
Can I love you baby? |
What we about to do |
Could make the whole earth move, I tell you my first move |
Climb up in it slow, I ain’t tryin to hurt you |
Can you feel me baby? |
Should I keep it right there? |
Is it still me baby? |
Take off your night wear |
And lay your pretty body in the middle of your bed |
As I place myself in the middle of your legs |
Do you want me baby? |
Just let me know |
Like Aaliyah baby, and I’ma set you slow |
Get freaky baby, can you handle that? |
Dim the lights burn candles on your back, yeah |
Chorus 2X to fade |