Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Neon Lights, artist - Taylor Bennett.
Date of issue: 10.04.2017
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Neon Lights |
Mr. Bennett never finished, you can’t miss a call |
Me and Supa Supa sold out SOB’s, New York |
Went from Maggie’s Palace sellin' reggie out the door |
Now I’m thinkin' bigger, motion pictures, foreign cars |
Chloe, Jordan, photo texting wasn’t here before |
Now I hit withdraw, when I hit the mall |
Homies from the land poppin' Xans, got withdrawals |
Clasp my hands in advance 'cause they just can’t get off |
I’ve been given second chances |
That shit like my motivation |
Just found out I’m sick, I got no time for patience |
Tired of waitin' |
I know destinations, I don’t know locations, I know detonation |
Call up Supa, he gon' cook the bacon |
Run up on me in the ‘preme and I might kill an ape |
And still rock Bape and still rep gang |
And still throw signs while my niggas do the same |
Cause the phony shit contagious so I let my phone ring |
I don’t like to conversate for conversation’s sake |
No more girls who stay up late |
Just baby girl and me |
Got real sisters outside |
Why lie when my life’s neon lights? |
Real sisters down to ride, and they gon' ride tonight |
She put some bad-bad magic on me |
Girl, you throw that bad-bad magic at me |
When I’m just tryna stack til a nigga can’t see |
Maybe break your back til the nigga can’t breathe |
She put some bad-bad magic on me |
Girl, you throw that bad-bad magic at me |
When I’m just tryna stack 'til a nigga can’t see |
Or maybe break your back 'til the nigga can’t breathe |
I got held down in a spot over some confrontations |
No more conversations, if you wanna link then hit my agent |
No more weed, I put that down with all my friends that wouldn’t make it |
All my friends is killers and robbers, some of them couldn’t shake it |
I relate with shawties, Aretha Franklin and dinner platin' |
Hispanic girls with attitudes be them great debaters |
My work’s a basket, my flow fantastic, this shit’s a classic |
I bumped the classics that beat the masses |
Then preached to masses |
I used to roast over roaches until they burned to ashes |
And now I’m so far from me, I feel like an open casket |
They want the new Taylor Bennett, my posts is post-traumatic |
My flow keep goin', you’re cul-de-sac and we’ll blow ya backward |
My clique assassins we’re always packin' and never lackin' |
I called up Supa for magic, Garçon, you gotta have it |
You’re bottle cappin', I’m model lappin' with chicks that’s athletes |
My reach Jurassic, my shoes ain’t matchin', they Easter baskets |
I got some twins with me, Nina, Marta, and that’s the backup |
Some real shawties tell lil' shawties to put some racks up |
My money longer, ain’t done evolvin' |
This shit’s a classic |
My money longer, ain’t done evolvin' |
This shit’s a classic |
Tsk, tired of niggas talkin' 'bout «this is the way you gotta do it» |
And you go to respect this type of person |
And you got to listen to that type of person |
Fuck all of that shit (Uh) |
I’m doing it the way I wanna do it |
Look, I’m (Lil' Boat!) tired of these niggas hatin', and tired of promoters |
flakin' |
So pay me in pre-advance |
And if I forget them, book again (Check) |
I’m up, up and away |
And I’m so loved by the white people |
That they could approach me in the back of a dark alley with a black hoodie |
(True) |
It’s as real as it gets (True) |
It’s as strong as a pit’s bit, I mean pit’s bite |
When she walk around in her black tights |
Made my jeans tighter |
Made my jeans tighter around the crotch area |
It’s gettin' scary to old heads |
'Cause Hip-Hop changing each and every day |
And I’m the nigga pickin' out the clothes |
I used to sip the fours and I used to fuck every hoe (True) |
I still fuck every hoe (True) |
I used to plot on the globe (True) |
I used to be called a joke (Well), I still get called a joke (Fuck 'em) |
But I’m so rich that my ears they only hear ching-ching |
My eyes see bling-bling |
And everything in between is out the seams all the time (Yeah) |
We whoop ass, and then we send a get well card |
Then we swipe our black cards |
And we don’t have backyards (Lil Boat) 'cause we stay on top floors |
And we get maids to wipe up all of our marble floors |
And we fuck five star, top model class whores |
And we still teens, but nigga, we don’t do chores |
Run up on me in the ‘preme and I might kill an ape |
And still rock Bape and still rep gang |
And still throw signs while my niggas do the same |
Cause the phony shit contagious so I let my phone ring |
I don’t like to conversate for conversation’s sake |
No more girls who stay up late |
Just baby girl and me |
Got real sisters outside |
Why lie when my life’s neon lights? |
Real sisters down to ride, and they gon' ride tonight |
She put some bad-bad magic on me |
Girl, you throw that bad-bad magic at me |
When I’m just tryna stack til a nigga can’t see |
Maybe break your back til the nigga can’t breathe |
She put some bad-bad magic on me |
Girl, you throw that bad-bad magic at me |
When I’m just tryna stack 'til a nigga can’t see |
Or maybe break your back 'til the nigga can’t breathe |