a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

l'orange - need you lyrics

[produced by l’orange]

[intro]
yeah, bl, lo
a song that has taken it’s audiences by storm, which may be explained by it’s theme which is both poignant and different

[verse 1]
full body soul, yeah chuck norris karate boots
when my warm heart turns cold, i need a sake shoot
n-ggas is n-z- troops, rude boy, 90s roots
made it to 2012 just to see romney lose
my whole posse hold shotties like we know gotti
had the whole lobby poppin’ like a dope party
filled the list full of n0bodies
n-ggas need remote control cars, i just sold my old audi
five thousand island sauce with the boss
a tall can for the long day, all days off, we get it always
call up the squad, the guacamole, the guap
the guatemalan models model for god
pull out a genie bottle, fill it with promises for your seeds tomorrow
and leave your sorrows at the back door, it’s time to quarrel
the slam dance, let the boys be boys
grab cans, mic stands, technic 1200’s, writin’ jams
like jelly, peanut b-tter and wolf, they not ready
drop heavy like a crane on your foot, spit out a levy
this is deep, yo, it’s deeper than atlantis
on the coast of los angeles you might get shot by a camera canon

[verse 2]
bruce leroy, you n-ggas is true decoys
blu the last b-boy, breakin’ faces for makin’ that cheap noise
bring them toys out, boy scout
that roach out, make boys bounce like a whole ounce
you suck poison out snakes, you suck that much
i don’t rap about gats, but you gon’ make them raps bust
gats tucked, act up, you sad duck
my sh-t swine ’em, don jon, you just a bad mutt
bad luck, stack mad bucks ’till i’m a fat f-ck
slap f-cks out of a pore ‘fore my gat bust
raps, wrap it up right quick, let it drive stick
heard she get around like clockwork, my time tick
tick-tick-tickin’ all the time, no
stoppin’ on a dime, ho you out of your mind
and i got mind on my money, time is money and i’m right on time
got a wallet big as chris wallace, why you watchin’ mine?
wash your mouth out, i’m ’bout that puttin’ gold in my mouth
know the south ’bout it ’bout it, boy don’t doubt it
you be swimmin’ with the trout out in vegas tryna get famous
i’ve been tryna tell them boys about it but they be aimin’, cannon

[outro]
why should i bother? well, look at the alternative

- lorange lyrics

Random Lyrics

HOT LYRICS