Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Legends In The Making, artist - Smoke DZA. Date of issue: 31.12.2012
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Legends In The Making |
| Ridin, smokin prayin' |
| Ridin, smokin prayin' |
| Ridin, smokin prayin' |
| We’re legends in the making |
| Ridin, smokin prayin' |
| Ridin, smokin prayin' |
| Ridin, smokin prayin' |
| We’re legends in the making |
| And we roll up that dour |
| Mo money, mo power |
| And we roll up that dour |
| Legends in the making |
| And we roll up that dour |
| Mo money, mo power |
| And we roll up that dour |
| Legends in the making |
| Young Khalifa winning young Khalifa winnin |
| Every car I’m smoking weed |
| Up in it, I don’t know what type of shit you on |
| I need at least a zip |
| Didn’t you hear, I say the cars I own are never leased a whip |
| Leather jacket, nigga muscle cars on that greaser shit |
| And my bandana tied, I play to ride |
| Live a movie so make sure the camera right |
| And I’m pullin up and hoppin out a mess of shit that young niggas ain’t |
| supposed to get |
| You know I’m rich |
| Uh! |
| Nigga my whole squad getting it |
| Practically live on the road |
| Doing 100 when I’m in this bitch |
| You know niggas kinda slow |
| A raw paper and some bomb weed |
| That lil nigga’s tryna clone me |
| And labels tryin to make the own me |
| But I’m the only one and only |
| Kush god, keep it rollin' like the brakes broken |
| That’s a little gram, little man that ain’t smoking |
| We move this shit, movie shit, I’m in motion |
| George Kush, second term and I’m still loaded |
| Yo bitch on me, all over my |
| I’m in the bay, smoking on King Henry |
| On that YO, retro haze but SP |
| I don’t search for trees, I am OG |
| Lil nigga your lungs ain’t strong enough to hot box with God |
| You ain’t got no ones and you mouthin off |
| Nigga knock it off, you niggas is through |
| Run we goin down, that’s how much we gon do |
| I got so much rugby, you have to start my own dude |
| Big face Rollie, and my mob stay smooth |
| Fuckin bitches, not I’m lookin like a nigga like you |
| I’m from Harlem |
| Homes where you get that weed from |
| Please don’t roll another one |
| I don’t even think that’s trees son |
| Bullshit, all this to show you something |
| Motor running, tank on F |
| High octane, high off the best strain |
| I write with my left brain |
| Haters face get tight when it’s set game |
| And them hoes know the business |
| Boss tight game for the ones they missin |
| No book, boy we handle bitches |
| Nigga I rap clothes off yo women |
| Homes, I smoke a zone in one sitting |
| Gold and chrome, 13 inches |
| Boxes on the dashboard, 16 switches |
| Car full of fumes, smoking that fuel |
| Exxon on in the ashtray of my coupe |
| Send her home smellin like Chevron fool |
| You more than whip, expectin you to |
| Double my money, double the crew |
| Triple what we smoked yesterday |
| Then it’s 4−20, 24/7 |
| Spitter Andretti, Ferraris and Chevys |