| Na na na na na
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| Na na na na na uuu uuu
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| Na na na na na
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| Na na na na na uuu uuu
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| Na na na na na
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| Na na na na na uuu uuu
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| And all my niggas say
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| Na na na na na
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| Na na na na na uuu uuu
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| And I’m live from the streets
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| '73 Caprice with the alligator seats
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| Alpine beats beat the block up all night
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| Wood grain a good thing, we riding all types
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| Chevy’s alright, blue pin stripe
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| All American me, patriotic when I ride
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| Bulletproof outside for you monks that starve
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| I got something for death wishers wishing that I
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| Ease up for a minute
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| Man I’m pushing city limits, no recruising, I didn’t did it
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| Spend straight to the top
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| Made a couple benz
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| Now it’s time to hit the block and bring my niggas out to shop
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| All new fabrics, Jordan’s automatic
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| Couple gold chains, couple 4−4matics
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| Keeps a nigger one static
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| We lie about milk city G’s, we are savage
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| Came from the basements and the attics
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| Jump shot the serve rock
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| Beat the average line state of a young black male
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| The trap’s so small but we trap so well
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| Spend it all at once and make it back so well
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| The circle of this how they say heaven’s beyond these gates
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| I swear I see heaven every time I enter the place
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| It’s the faith I have in change
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| But it always stays the same as I ride around in vane
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| And they say
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| Na na na na na
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| Na na na na na uuu uuu
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| And we smoking on that
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| Na na na na na
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| Na na na na na (got me feeling like) uuu (that feeling’s like) uuu
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| I got my dog shades on
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| Blocking out these trobe lights
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| Eyes blood shot, I’ve been sippin' all night
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| On my 7 jay paper’s all white
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| I’m so distant from the star type
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| The ones them self of music
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| Insanity is drilling me so the drugs I use it
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| To flow away from this bullshit, abuse it
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| Tryna escape the bull pit, that same old blueprint
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| But ten friends fake women the whole niners groolish
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| Nightmares in night is
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| Slight glance from Chevy chairs
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| Heavy is making hard to breathe
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| The money’s so fast so it makes your heart believe
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| Temptation in the entertainment, all for the love of being famous
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| The cool ones end up being the lamest
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| So rappers I spoke to became the strangers
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| And nameless, brainless, faceless, forgotten
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| Were sitting at the top now they falling to the bottom
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| Now they crawl around me, watching my every move cause I’m the next king
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| Gracious and militant, Martin Luther’s dream
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| Peeked the whole scene through the lends of Malcolm Little
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| Ready for the revolution, same riffle, same window
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| Man, what’d I get myself into?
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| What’d I get myself into?
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| Na na na na na
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| Na na na na na uuu uuu
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| Na na na na na
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| Na na na na na uuu uuu |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Live at Blossom , by - Stalley. Song from the album Savage Journey To The American Dream, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп