Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song North Nights, artist - slowthai. Album song Nothing Great About Britain, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 16.05.2019
Record label: Method
Song language: English
North Nights |
Madness |
From a boy, been chased by badness (mad) |
I was like rah, nah, nah |
Suck your mum like your dad (your dad) |
Back in the day when I jumped cab (skrr) |
I got blacklisted, couldn’t get one from my gaff (from my home, hey) |
But it’s calm, it’s cool, it’s cold, it’s nice (nice, nice, nice, nice) |
When it snows I’m ghost, cause I’m dressed in white (ice) |
Roll round my ends screaming «North Nights!» |
(double N, double N!) |
Roll round my ends and they know slowthai |
Slay |
Every one knows about slay |
When I roll in, everyone goes: «I know him» |
Just cause he know my name |
Bait |
When I draw my Beyblade |
It’s a twister, make you turn in your grave like a Rizla |
Screw your face (slay) |
Pain |
Get jooked, complain of belly ache |
No space, no caps, no one can imitate |
No hoods, no hats, like who you booking mate? |
Strange |
Situations elevate |
Breath stinks straight, in need of Colgate |
Cah only get one life, no simulator |
In the cold Northants gets tragic (tragic) |
Nights in watching Cash In The Attic (ah!) |
Smell the tree like cash in the attic (brrt, brrt) |
Hate the wet weed but I just bag it |
Theresa May wanna be like Branson |
Making P from airplane traffic |
Theresa May wanna be like Branson |
Making P from airplane traffic |
In the cold Northants gets tragic |
Nights in watching Cash In The Attic |
Smell the tree like cash in the attic |
Hate the wet weed but I just bag it |
Theresa May wanna be like Branson |
Making P from airplane traffic |
Theresa May wanna be like Branson |
Making P from airplane traffic |
Wouldn’t throw my shadow |
Mewtwo, you man move like Spearow |
Tunnel vision and this tunnel too narrow |
Want beef but I’m moving cattle |
Woah |
Want war jump out the Bora |
With an arrow, cross bow and a borer |
I write novels like man was an author |
And I pray this year is a scorcher |
Woah |
Pray this summer is a heater |
Kick ball, school man like it’s FIFA |
I’m in Thailand, bun Ibiza |
Wiseman with a spliff Ribena |
Woah |
Slow it down the slow motion |
Laugh at my pain I ain’t joking |
Blood from a stone, hands open |
Blood on my hands for my bloods that are broken |
Head too big, it’s swollen |
Hot in the bits like Moulton |
Negative life, stop moaning |
Too many things I hold in |
I ain’t learnt till my legs start floating |
Disconnect everyone I don’t like, Don Pérignon hype |
Catch me in the club, I be selling Snow White |
Impose yourself, you might get a goodbye |
Pressurise me and get something in your eye |
From a yout, the boy has been a savage |
Rudeboy deal with the matter |
Different planet like I came from Namek |
My life they can’t understand it |
From a yout, the boy has been a savage |
Rudeboy deal with the matter |
Different planet like I came from Namek |
My life they can’t understand it, no |