Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Twilight, artist - Relaxing Piano Masters. Album song Relaxing Jazz Piano Music for Spa, Massage, Meditation, Yoga, Tai Chi & Shiatsu, in the genre Джаз
Date of issue: 15.02.2011
Record label: Aqua Purha
Song language: English
Twilight |
Uh, yea, yea, yea |
Let’s go niggas |
C’mon nigga, c’mon niggaI be dippin' in tha twilight, wit gangstas |
Smokin' weed up in my ride life |
The same stuff, it’s still a bitch, livin' like I’m rich |
Bang broads call me Mr. International, ghetto stars |
I be dippin' in tha twilight, wit gangstas |
Smokin' weed up in my ride life |
The same stuff, it’s still a bitch, livin' like I’m rich |
Bang broads call me Mr. International, ghetto starsYo' I talk like a champion, |
walk like a champion |
Body like a God, and I promise that Nas will hit you off |
Flow like a gangsta, blum bum bum bum bum |
Bustin' like dummies, so mami you come and lick it off |
I stay right, purple haze’d outfit stay on my hip |
Blood stay in my mouf, petron layed out |
Tequila sunrise and five 6's, surprise bitches |
Nas from the trenches, hot as he survivedThis is ten years, here for good, |
rep fo' my thugs |
Plumper than last summer, stomach streched from tha grub |
Good livin', good women, I fuck wit straight stallions |
Bowleg stances, go 'head handsome |
But they all scream, my car’s lean |
Hit up, every state, town, city wit my braveheart team |
Pretty face, round tits and ass, stay my queen |
Keep a burna in tha trunk, ate all fifteenWhen I be dippin' in tha twilight, |
wit gangstas |
Smokin' weed up in my ride life |
The same stuff, it’s still a bitch, livin' like I’m rich |
Bang broads call me Mr. International, ghetto stars |
I be dippin' in tha twilight, wit gangstas |
Smokin' weed up in my ride life |
The same stuff, it’s still a bitch, livin' like I’m rich |
Bang broads call me Mr. International, ghetto starsYo' if you see me on MTV, |
don’t forget |
I’m tha same nigga from QB |
Sittin' on tha block, hungry and starvin' |
Imaginin' performin' at Madison Square Garden |
Or Radio City, in New York City |
Bring tha whole hood wit me, gallons of henny |
My homie got shot right befo' my eyes |
I got shot too, but I survivedI was just a teenager, never had a pager |
Always had flava, chasin' dat paper |
I need dem diamonds, dem new clothes |
Pretty hoes, dat Bently Coupe all red like a rose |
And everybody knows, my gun goes off |
In tha west coast, durty south, and up north |
Jungle tha boss, a natural born hustler |
I despise suckas, ya punk muthafuckasWhen I be dippin' in tha twilight, |
wit gangstas |
Smokin' weed up in my ride life |
The same stuff, it’s still a bitch, livin' like I’m rich |
Bang broads call me Mr. International, ghetto stars |
I be dippin' in tha twilight, wit gangstas |
Smokin' weed up in my ride life |
The same stuff, it’s still a bitch, livin' like I’m rich |
Bang broads call me Mr. International, ghetto starsNigga I’m high wit high |
hopes, fuck tha bullshit |
Stand up in front of dat, you get tha full clip |
I’ll beat a nigga senseless, his skin is missin', listen |
My knockouts is six, so serious |
Bang wit a «b» on my chest, ya’ll niggas is bitches |
Ya touch me and I’m pullin' ya dress from stitches to stitchin' |
I hate y’all niggas, stomp you out like roaches |
Can’t you see I’m here to get this paper just I’m suppose toI been a BraveHeart |
since semen, cesspool my pops schemin' |
One thought to get up in my moms jeans and it came to this |
It feel like a muthafucka dreamin', but I’m here |
Fuck anything another nigga thinkin', see dem BraveHearts |
Damn, those my niggas, you got drama wit 'em |
Sleep witcha gun unda ya fuckin' pillow |
This is real thangs, I know shit feels strange |
How dem QB niggas do thangs, check dis shitWhen I be dippin' in tha twilight, |
wit gangstas |
Smokin' weed up in my ride life |
The same stuff, it’s still a bitch, livin' like I’m rich |
Bang broads call me Mr. International, ghetto stars |
I be dippin' in tha twilight, wit gangstas |
Smokin' weed up in my ride life |
The same stuff, it’s still a bitch, livin' like I’m rich |
Bang broads call me Mr. International, ghetto stars |