Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Paradise, artist - Kool Keith. Album song Demolition Crash, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 26.05.2014
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Junkadelic
Song language: English
Paradise |
| Okay! |
| I’m all that with NBA wives |
| Jock strap nice, they match the white ties |
| Lou |
| The mob warehouse, why you think the truck come to pick up more bologna |
| Stella |
| Front a hundred thousand mil', let you up and comers develop street cred |
| I’m sleeping on you like that force field around the bed |
| Silver Surfer, your girl like my balls |
| They turn colors, now they burgundy |
| IPhone, laby, I like the way your wife worry me |
| I’m a regulator, I keep my hair cut low-key like Warren G |
| Versace’s, get out the green Porsche |
| You know I’m blind, I can’t see |
| Using my stick to walk past MC’s |
| I’m Donny Microphonse, tonight, I’m hitting your Amazon |
| Ballroom, baby, no problem, I brought Hammerstein |
| Hammerstein, Carnegie Hall, Radio City |
| Madison Square, the Barclay Center, it’s all mine |
| Hammerstein, Carnegie Hall, Radio City |
| Madison Square, the Barclay Center, it’s all mine |
| Paradise |
| New York is a sport |
| MVP, but I stay out the court |
| , Range Rover horse |
| 240 on the horse next to the bricks, young gunner to the boss |
| I’m a metropolitan nigga, check my politic, nigga, I’m a politic, nigga |
| Money and the power,, yay and the keys to the city |
| Box seats, and my Yankee fitted, chicken box, get it |
| Roof off, titties spillin out cause the milk all in it |
| So soft, seats to the benches |
| Love to perforate it, let the pussy breathe in it |
| My reflection on the hood, your reflection on the dishes |
| No pork, don’t talk, nigga, stop snitching |
| Shot clock, white chalk, overtime, finished |
| I’m bad religion, death in jewels |
| Sacrilegious, gorilla monsoon |
| Indigenous to the dark, I live on your fear and remain in your thoughts |
| Blackburn necklace, keep bitches caught up |
| Battle of the sexes, more for the slaughter |
| Hey, 2 15's in the the water |
| Uptown, Harlem World, Rich Porter |
| Smack bitches with the dick, hit niggas with the mortar |
| Mylar zip, ounces and quarters |
| Wear a disguise, so I don’t get caught |
| Eyes without a face, no reflection |
| On the highway to hell or the staircase to heaven |
| Living in the past, sleepwalking in the present |
| Everyday’s a show, real life, no gimmick |
| Money over hoes, I’m 'bout that business |
| We straight wilding, like juvies on the island |
| Caged up, so raise up, before I light the stage up |
| Take caution to what I say |
| Get with it, or get turned the fuck away |
| Swift with the gift when I’m dropping my shit |
| I do shows, collect dough, grab a ho, and then split |
| I smoke that raw shit, you smoke that if |
| I’m talking Denver nuggets, Portland dog shit |
| Straight to the brain, spliffs make me sane |
| Bitches give me brain to gain some fame |
| Libido’s the name, the FCC6 to blame |
| Cause I came to rearrange the game, with the spoken bar flow |
| Haters copy, want to be me |
| Come out and see me and realize it ain’t easy |