- Solomon Childs
- >
- Funeral Talk (The Eulogy)
- >
- You Gonna Love Me
Testo You Gonna Love Me
Testo You Gonna Love Me
[Intro: Solomon Childs]
Exclusive, S. Childs, believe me
That's right.. come on...
Yeah... Body town... New York City
Yeah, Broadway & Henderson, get ready
[Solomon Childs]
Got my own killa slang and dances Certain hammers for certain circumstances
These the roads of Allah deeds, knawahmean?
I took the advances, and bulletproofed the Suburbans
No handouts, stay earning mine
The hood hate to see a nigga, shine, now I know
That a hoe, gonna always be a hoe
And twenty three's, can't fit on an '98 Tahoe
And ain't no superstars coming off Apollo
And chicks frontin' 'round the way with them tongue rings
Don't swallow, my mind was raped as a child
Rocky could of never beat Apollo
The feds could of never caught Alpo
P. Diddy would of never fell for a bird like J-Lo
Shit, this power to the peso, woola heads representing
Staten Island's criminal slums, we got the dirtiest sweatpants But bet we got bullets in the guns, a ass full of jums
Blood all over your burberry, do what I gotta do to eat
Eat what I gotta eat, nigga
[Outro: Solomon Childs]
Yeah, yeah... heh... Bless Entertainmment
Yeah, exclusive... arms, the click
S. Childs... twenty oh three...
Exclusive, S. Childs, believe me
That's right.. come on...
Yeah... Body town... New York City
Yeah, Broadway & Henderson, get ready
[Solomon Childs]
Got my own killa slang and dances Certain hammers for certain circumstances
These the roads of Allah deeds, knawahmean?
I took the advances, and bulletproofed the Suburbans
No handouts, stay earning mine
The hood hate to see a nigga, shine, now I know
That a hoe, gonna always be a hoe
And twenty three's, can't fit on an '98 Tahoe
And ain't no superstars coming off Apollo
And chicks frontin' 'round the way with them tongue rings
Don't swallow, my mind was raped as a child
Rocky could of never beat Apollo
The feds could of never caught Alpo
P. Diddy would of never fell for a bird like J-Lo
Shit, this power to the peso, woola heads representing
Staten Island's criminal slums, we got the dirtiest sweatpants But bet we got bullets in the guns, a ass full of jums
Blood all over your burberry, do what I gotta do to eat
Eat what I gotta eat, nigga
[Outro: Solomon Childs]
Yeah, yeah... heh... Bless Entertainmment
Yeah, exclusive... arms, the click
S. Childs... twenty oh three...
- Get Away
- Street Degrees
- Corporate America
- Girls Havin' Babies On Their Own
- I'm Missing You
- Dinero
- Games
- Next
- Let's Ride
- Pimp Talk
Altri testi di Solomon Childs
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
- Testi Lucio Battisti
- Testi Negramaro
- Testi Renato Zero
- Testi Gigi D'Alessio
- Testi Alessandra Amoroso
- Testi Canzoni Napoletane
- Testi Eros Ramazzotti
- Testi Elisa
- Testi Biagio Antonacci
- Testi Cesare Cremonini