Search results for fifty second street by louis prima

We've found 124 lyrics, 100 artists, and 100 albums matching fifty second street by louis prima:


Albums:

Per Second, Per Second, Per Second... Every Second (Wheat) · Fifty Fifty, Vol. 2 (Hutchinson, Hutch) · Fifty-Fifty (Inga Rumpf) · Louis, Louis & Louis (Louis Armstrong) · Louis Prima Orchestra (Louis Prima) · Louis Prima [Weton] (Louis Prima) · Tribute to Louis Prima, Vol. 1 (Sam Butera) · Tribute to Louis Prima, Vol. 2 (Sam Butera) · Louis Prima [Nocturne] (Louis Prima) · The Best of Louis Prima & His Orchestra (Louis Prima) – and 90 other albums »


the melody of
The Forty-Second Street

Little nifties from the Fifties, innocent and sweet
Sexy ladies from the Eighties, who are indiscreet

Side by
of
Forty-Second Street

Little nifties from the fifties
Innocent and sweet
Sexy ladies from the eighties
Who are indiscreet

Side by side, they're glorified
Where
of
Forty-Second Street

Little nifties from the fifties
Innocent and sweet
Sexy ladies from the eighties
Who are indiscreet

Side by side, they're glorified
Where
the melody of
Forty-Second Street
Little nifties from the fifties, innocent and sweet
Sexy ladies from the eighties, who are indiscreet

They're side by
of
Forty-Second Street

Little nifties from the fifties
Innocent and sweet
Sexy ladies from the eighties
Who are indiscreet

Side by side, they're glorified
Where
too
Forty second street
Hear the beat of dancing feet
Its the song I love the melody of
Forty second street
Little nifites from the fifties
too
Forty second street
Hear the beat of dancing feet
Its the song I love the melody of
Forty second street
Little nifites from the fifties
On the second runner up of the 4H pageant
It seems like yesterday, even though
That was sixteen hundred and fifty two beers
A whole lot of highway, a whole lot
too
Forty second street
Hear the beat of dancing feet
Its the song I love the melody of
Forty second street
Little nifites from the fifties
I had a hand me down ride painted rattle can red
Second hand tires with poor boy tread
Made a lot of almost love in the bed of that
Truck that got
I had a hand me down ride painted rattle can red
Second hand tires with poor boy tread
Made a lot of almost love in the bed of that 
Truck that
jazzy bitch in milano
With niggas pay me the model
Sway Louis on my feet still running the street
And I never missed a heartbeat

Family over
Johnny Ryall is the bum on my stoop
I gave him fifty cents to buy some soup
He knows the time with the fresh Gucci watch
He's even more over than
way you're bound to function 
Fifty-Second Street's the junction

You got to come on man 
And take a piece of Mister Parker's
Clap your hands
Did you see that man in the limousine 
With the pretty doll, he is fifty and the girl's only seventeen 
But she doesn't care, and she never will
way you're bound to function; Fifty-Second Street's the junction.
You got to come on, man, and take a piece of Mister Parker's,
Clap your hands
it
Yaun take it to the streets let the whole world know it
It's the chance for your big career, don't blow it

Or get it blown from the top gun
the clowns, I beat with no hands
And the two O-Z's, down to fifty-four grams
With two to the face, I'm a basket face
With fifty-four seconds to outer space
way you're bound to function 
Fifty-Second Street's the junction

You got to come on man 
And take a piece of Mister Parker's
Clap your hands
This is the final boarding call for flight 1259 
Departing from Los Angeles  final destination to St. Louis 
Thank you 

Damn G  the spot's
[Airline attendant] 
This is the final boarding call for flight 1259 
Departing from Los Angeles  final destination to St. Louis 
Thank you
to dating dope dealers
Cats with felonies who tote heaters
You won't believe what's in the second verse
You better buckle up, its bout to get worse
When I saw the ambulance screaming down Main Street
I didn't give it a thought
But it was my Uncle Eugene
He died on October
The second, nineteen
One, take it to the streets let the whole world know it
It's the chance for your big career, don't blow it
Or get it blown from the top gun nigga
I ain't
Daddy-O slipped me some cause my breath stank
White gold, but no accounts in Swiss banks
Think tanks once rolled on the city streets
I used to meet your