Lyrics:
nigga, ayy
An imaginary rich nigga, ayy
Seven figures hold that slimmer than my bitch figure, ayy
Goin' digital and physical on all y'all, ayy
Bunch
and bamboo walls,
Em7 A G Em7 A
They've even got a bamboo floor!
Em7 A G/B A7 D6 Dalt Gdim D
You must get to know
number and Susie ain't your friend
Look who took you under with seven inches in
Blood is on the dance floor, blood is on the knife
Susie got your
number and Susie ain't your friend
Look who took you under with seven inches in
Blood is on the dance floor, blood is on the knife
Susie got your
But she live on the twentieth floor in town
The elevator's broken down
So I walk one, two flight, three flight four
Five, six, seven flight, eight
I cleared us off a place on that one little table
That you (D) left us
And (C) pulled me up a (D7) big ole piece of (G) floor
I (C) pulled the head
the floor, and make way
"for America's most complete artist"
"What's your name boy?"
"I.. am.." "America's most complete artist"
[Quik] Sucker ass niggaz
to shut ....
7th floor expenses and private schools
Pushing a pen you're not turning the tools
8th floor position, respect and acclaim
Move
seven-seven
Never been this close to heaven
Got the pretty turned up to eleven
Droppin' them dead on the dance floor
Somebody better call a doctor
She's
NAT KING COLE LYRICS
Nature Boy
:Artist: Nat King Cole
-from his "The Greatest Of Nat King Cole" LP-Capitol SLB-6803
-peak Billboard position # 1
J-Lo, ya tú sabes, no hay más na'
It's a new generation
Mr. Worldwide
Of party people
Get on the floor, dale, get on the floor
Red one
Let me
baby, every day of the week
(And on a Monday) scrub your dirty floor
(On a Tuesday) I do a whole lot more
(On a Wednesday) I wash your dirty
at your sleeve
You walk the floor and wonder why
With every breath you breathe
The rats have got your flour
Bad blood it got your mare
The rats have
at your sleeve
You walk the floor and wonder why
With every breath you breathe
The rats have got your flour
Bad blood it got your mare
The rats have
at your sleeve
You walk the floor and wonder why
With every breath you breathe
The rats have got your flour
Bad blood it got your mare
The rats have
unannounced through the door
And he picks her heart up off the table
And he watches it smash on the floor
Ninety-seven lovers
Twisted out of shape
ain't the Chelsea Hotel, we're modern idiots"
And who's gonna hold you like me?
Nobody
No-fucking-body
Nobody
You smoked, then ate seven bars
I did not diss Taylor Swift
And I've never dissed her
First thing is I'm an artist and as an artist
I will express how I feel with no censorship
donk is like a trunk full of bass on
An old school Chevy 7 trail donka truck
All I need is some vodka and some chunka coke
And watch a chick get
of the matador (fuck you!)
Carrying 2 cans of paint, security looks at me awkward
I say third floor I'm late, paintin' jimmy iovine's office
Holding my breath
J-Lo, ya tú sabes, no hay más na'
It's a new generation
Mr. Worldwide
Of party people
Get on the floor, dale, get on the floor
Red one
Let me
One, two, three, four
Everybody get on the dance floor
Five, six, seven, eight
It's 4 AM and I'm wide awake
One, two, three, four
Everybody get
people Little Egypt doesn't dance there anymore
She's too busy mopping and a-takin' care of shopping at the store
Cause we've got seven kids and all day
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