La Luna Testo
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Testo La Luna
Yo, yo, I need a car. I have to go to the garden. I'm gonna be late. I need one right now. Can we please call La Luna?
Alright
(Phone ringing) Hello. You've reached La Luna Luxury Car Unlimited Services. If you need a ride to the airport call 1-800 [?] airport. Please hold
Yo, what beat is that, huh? Oh, that is funky, what is that? Yo, what beat is that?
It's from the phone
Could rhyme on this. Oh, hell yeah, haha, yeah
Came out the pussy wearing Timbs
Oh, my lord, it's him
Time to put the toys back in the bin 'Cause I'm sick of this shit
Motherfucker sweeter than a licorice stick
And it's rubbing me the wrong way to say the least
I'ma save my peace
And I'ma breeze in the caprice with the gold seats
Bumpin' Boosie on a slow creep
[?] look at stone man, you know me
Asian shooter with the blonde hair
Street Fighter character
Fuck around and suplex 'em through the sailor bar
My life is greenlit, no script
And we all know that money be the motive of this whole shit
Bitch, I'm focused like none other than number one Don Dada
Drop-top, jokes on the youngster, now look at him
Looking slim in the red '89 Testarossa with the wing
Mind blown
A customer representative will be with your shortly. Did you know we can get to you in just seven minutes. Seven minutes. Call 1-800-8..
Your shit lack quality I'm sitting right behind my chick
Making pottery
My first joint was like an odyssey
The second joint straight raw like the shaman's feet
Climbed the stairs to the sun
Sacrificed myself for protection of my only son
Keep the bloodline strong while I watch close
To another thousand years, here's a toast (clink)
Champagne drippin' down the beard hair
Supermodels sucking while I steer the long pink fleetwood
Roll a big fat blunt so you know I'm gonna sleep good
Now
Ah!
Rock-a-bye baby
Yeah
Rock-a-bye baby
Uh-huh
Alright
(Phone ringing) Hello. You've reached La Luna Luxury Car Unlimited Services. If you need a ride to the airport call 1-800 [?] airport. Please hold
Yo, what beat is that, huh? Oh, that is funky, what is that? Yo, what beat is that?
It's from the phone
Could rhyme on this. Oh, hell yeah, haha, yeah
Came out the pussy wearing Timbs
Oh, my lord, it's him
Time to put the toys back in the bin 'Cause I'm sick of this shit
Motherfucker sweeter than a licorice stick
And it's rubbing me the wrong way to say the least
I'ma save my peace
And I'ma breeze in the caprice with the gold seats
Bumpin' Boosie on a slow creep
[?] look at stone man, you know me
Asian shooter with the blonde hair
Street Fighter character
Fuck around and suplex 'em through the sailor bar
My life is greenlit, no script
And we all know that money be the motive of this whole shit
Bitch, I'm focused like none other than number one Don Dada
Drop-top, jokes on the youngster, now look at him
Looking slim in the red '89 Testarossa with the wing
Mind blown
A customer representative will be with your shortly. Did you know we can get to you in just seven minutes. Seven minutes. Call 1-800-8..
Your shit lack quality I'm sitting right behind my chick
Making pottery
My first joint was like an odyssey
The second joint straight raw like the shaman's feet
Climbed the stairs to the sun
Sacrificed myself for protection of my only son
Keep the bloodline strong while I watch close
To another thousand years, here's a toast (clink)
Champagne drippin' down the beard hair
Supermodels sucking while I steer the long pink fleetwood
Roll a big fat blunt so you know I'm gonna sleep good
Now
Ah!
Rock-a-bye baby
Yeah
Rock-a-bye baby
Uh-huh
ALAN MAMAN, ARIYAN ARSLANI, W. JACKSON
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Lyrics powered by LyricFind