Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song North Nights , by - slowthai. Song from the album Nothing Great About Britain, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопRelease date: 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 |