Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song World Tour , by - Styles P. Song from the album Phantom and The Ghost, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хопRelease date: 28.04.2014
Song language: English
World Tour |
| Uh-huh, SP, what up? |
| Slime, what up? |
| Huh, Vado, no, crazy |
| It’s off to the next life for you, homie |
| I guarantee you won’t be lonely |
| We know what money buy |
| But what’s the price that the money cost? |
| The mob wasn’t involved, but shorty went to knock sonny off |
| Be careful when you go to drop your honey off |
| Money off, find out what them niggas actin' funny for |
| On a world tour in the spot, where’s (-), dog? |
| Fuck around and get your ass killed by a gun of yours |
| I’m a hundred bars, still’d get a ton of raw |
| Fly like them niggas that was comin' through the tunnel doors |
| Yeah, in Palladiums, now we in the stadiums |
| Weed for my Cali niggas and my Canadians |
| Probably forgot the spot I parked my Mercedes in |
| On a world tour, I got blunts and I’m blazin' 'em |
| We on a world tour with Cîroc on my hand |
| Diamond bezel upper band on the couch where I stand |
| Harlem, YO, Queens flow, y’all know |
| We on a world tour with Cîroc on my hand |
| Diamond bezel upper band on the couch where I stand |
| BX, BK, Staten Isl', we play |
| Uh, clip in the Cuban Cuban link holdin' Jesus head |
| Foot on the table cause the bottom my sneaker red |
| Sneakerhead, money flat, call it pita bread |
| Derek Jeter’s bread, run the base 'til I see the feds |
| Huh, it’s too much money the crib for |
| Could 'ford, duck and aim at your target and then pour |
| Far as eatin', man, I been full |
| Cookin' up, hear my minute soda like the Timberwolves |
| Renovatin', just bought the flash in |
| Old gangsta spot where the niggas with cash win |
| Ballgoers like lawnmowers, get to grassin' |
| Try 'em, show us Louboutin loafers we be flashin' |
| Uh-huh, we only speakin' for paper |
| Barzini, whoever set up the meeting’s a trader |
| Players ball, I slip my feet in some 'gators |
| Coogi blazers, mansions, white people for neighbors |
| I could never get rich enough to go and buy the ocean |
| I play in (-) and just sit up in the ocean |
| Close your eyes and you can feel emotion |
| Blowin' a lie while I’m ridin' the wave floatin' |
| Spot in the Ritz, 'nother one in the Trump too |
| Get what I like and what little brother would want too |
| Smoke for the dead, drink for the incarcerated |
| Suede parka, (-) made it |
| Loro Piana suits, smooth it if it’s tangible |
| Niggas is animals, killing’s understandble |
| You could manage the money or let the money manage you |
| Fuck out of here when the forty bullets is blammin' you |
| Makin' a toast with niggas niggas remember |
| Standin' in the Center, Oscar de la Renta |
| Shades, boots and suits, I’m a die a member |
| Mafia nigga with a real boss agenda |