Lyrics:
Ed io ero solo un giocattolo per te
Guarda che qua non è coney island eh
Ordinavamo cibo thailandese perché
L'italia non bastava ad uno come me
now, glory of love
Glory of love, give it to me now, glory of love to see you through, huh
Oh, my Coney Island baby, now
I'm a Coney Island baby, now
I'd
this cash, finna count it all, homie
Catch me on a island, baby, no it ain't Coney
No it ain't Coney, grind 'til I'm forty
Seven twenty-four, baby,
Two-tone buss down Rollie
I score like it ain't no goalie
Lean got me movin' slowly
Trapstar, Montana, Tony
Want a bad bitch from the Coneys
Too many
the greatest, nigga
You a bitch, I'm judgin' by your Rollie size (36)
Pop, pop to your brain, yeah, it's Coney time
Flint nigga, stuffin' hoes with packs
hip, I'm Manu Ginobili
Twenty fours skating on the whip, rims sitting on Kobe's
Yeah I heard your mother fucking verse, stick to working at coney
500
What is it Coney Island
the color blue of your eyes
or the scarlet red of your lips?
Stolen dreams in the sand
what a bitter surprise
the moon
Maybe we could go to Coney Island
Maybe I could sing the national anthem
Buy a white sweater for the last white day of the summer
Buy my purple
down to the Coney Island
On the coaster and around again
And no one's gonna ever tear us apart
'Cause she's my sweetheart
All right, oh yea
Oh,
Jonathan, call again
Take me to Coney Island
Take me on the train
Kiss me while I calculate
And calibrate and heaven's sakes
Don't make me
down to the Coney Island
On the coaster and around again
And no one's gonna ever tear us apart
'Cause she's my sweetheart
All right, oh yea
Oh,
'Way up in the snow
Where the scrub oaks grow
And the coneys and the picas play
Where the marmots abound
All a-diggin' in the ground
From Coney Island to The Sunset Strip
Somebody's gonna make a happy trip
Tonight, while the moon is bright
He's gonna have a bag of crazy toys
From Coney Island to The Sunset Strip
Somebody's gonna make a happy trip
Tonight, while the moon is bright
He's gonna have a bag of crazy toys
homie brownsville rob ya
They'll clap ya homie bed-stuy I'll get you killed for 100 grams.
Get a coney island nigga to pull the trigga man ask flex he
ya, homey
Brownsville rob ya; they'll clap ya, homey
Benz style, I'll get you killed for a hundred grams
Get a Coney Island nigga to pull the trigga,
'Way up in the snow
Where the scrub oaks grow
And the coneys and the picas play
Where the marmots abound
All a-diggin' in the ground
had me melting like the sunset
Black motorcycle, a picture perfect silhouette
c moment in time, yeah
One hell of a ride, mmm
We were Coney island
can find Us
We live in brooklyn
Coney island's buck whiling and we b-boy stylin
We live in brooklyn
Yeah, on the spot we hustle cause like th-that
Up and down the wheel does grind
Round and round
In this Coney Island of the mind
High and low with all mankind
We spin and spin
In this Coney Island
at the Coney with the chickens, yeah
We spеaking code talk
I'm on telly with my vendor, yеah
We speaking code talk
Nah, you can't talk to me if
You ain't
duck your Coney Dog (bah)
Thought he was a demon, Skilla nailed him to the holy cross (pussy ass)
My niggas be on street shit (yeah), headshot, sleep
or the bags of ice cream
Check on the cooks, don't run out of steam
Get yourself some buns and a box of coneys
Grab the pop chicken, then the crispy tenders
always with the guys
I'm never lonely
My money long just like a coney
And I can't trust these niggas cause they phony
All type of bitches in my phone yea
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