Search results for 'everybodys got summer by atlantic starr' Page #12

and out the gym, feelin' slimmer than spaghetti
Stackin' muscle on these bones, yeah I got the hoes sweaty
Wait a second... Yo, we all outta weed
Let's go

the whistle,
on the swizzle its official
and we back
to get it cracking
in the middle of the action
we got you in flow motion

[Chorus]
Flow… round by the wind

later owning on everybody's home that you fuckin' with
Wheezy F baby, please say the baby
Riding with your bitch got keys on the lady
Triple gold these

an exaggeration of reality
But guys like Vasconcelos got that right, that’s why they called them the masters of renaissance painting

These massive orange clouds

nothing
Then I just be frontin', buggin'
All my homies and my family
I put that on mother vein
Play by the summers it's goin' to be insanity
It ain't easy,

filled with sin
Can't ever let that energy rubb off of My skin

Even your efforts not commendable
Everybody's expendable
Niggas infatuated by the physical

Handbook. C.Shreve. Let's Go
I feel it in my bones, we got a anthem
All I'm tryna do is hold the Summer Ransom
Me and a mean beat, that's a clean

lightning striking the west and tsunamis in the Atlantic
And wildfires dispersing across the entire planet
And falling out of the sky is a comet that’s so

trying to get some love from me
I’m saying fuck em all
I feel like Jason Tamalolou by the way I fend em off but leave em running more
Got a wifey at my

Good vibes on repeat and 
Ain't nobody sleepin', everybody's dreamin' 
Summers on the beach and 
Sunset got me peakin' 
Everyone's unique and

There's

pop up
Ran off the field got locked up, left Allison knocked up
Going to the doctor all by herself
Put her books 'about Criminal Justice back

undercover
No wonder my life is fun
It's just like school after summer
It's a bummer when others throw
They fun into the gutter gives me shudders
You're tough

skills
I lost too many homies to the feds Everybody tryna get a hand out
I ain't shakin' no hands, I still got ARs and FNs
Sometimes I can't even trust

Laughin' at Ya

Heron

Street Money

2001

Some of y'all niggas need to call your wife and your chaperone
Right motherfucking now 
Ya know why (Why, they got to call em why, why)
Cause

and bae I'll have you reminiscing
Gone have you telling me to fill you like a stadium
I'm on roll ain't nothing you can say
Got me feeling on you
Driving by

Atlantic
Robbers robbing more than ever shooters banging it’s manic
Granny told me to come by I didn’t think that she would die
Is what a lot of people say

Runs Nazareth's beast, yeah
You got your boy Killer Priest, Iron Sheik from the Middle East
And Caspa Clark, yeah
Augusto, Executor

Wu-Tang, yeah

like Jack
Don't care to be him but don't test me like I got the strap
First Black republic, Haiti put us on the map
Pan-African man I'm for everybody

she had some good believe me 

When I tell you that your days is numbered 

Cause everybody dien now like hot days in summers

Throwing, kicks

It won't happen the 1st time pussy now try me 

You got a nice car, then nigga ride by me 

Got guns that put a gap in your mouth like the bull

Summertime

DJ Luis

Hustle Music, Vol. 18

slabs in a single file line (summertime)
Pocket full of money (that's how we do it in the summer time)
All those players got a bad ass woman on their

Whole life been so tragic
Got no light, still flashing
They took my heart, no passion
They still want smoke, no passing

Yeah, summer 19 had to chase

the remix
I go by the name of Sacario

[Fat Joe] Yeah!
[Sacario] Angela, Joey Crack
[Fat Joe] Pick the music up man
[Angie M] Let's do it
[Sacario] We 'gon

run it down tonight
Ooh, everybody else a hater
I don't give a damn, you're right
Got your money, got your paper
We can run it down tonight
Ooh,