Search results for 'bourbon street blues by louis prima' Page #8

no no don't address them
Can't you see how they dress them
They probably surrounded by models and a
Bunch of them yes men
I'm surrounded by no-men oh

first 8-Ball at 120
Broke it drown and flipped it for 3
Did it a couple times, flipped OZs
From there, I was on my way keys
Got saved by the rap game

off
They see me pullin' off in that Dawn, the top lift off (hah)
The kid from May Street that used to whip soft (whip)
And let his fif' off, now I'm

High Powered

Spice 1

Immortalized

1999

.50 caliber players mo' fools is .22's
Murder next to my marrow killin' up streets with the blues
Bossalinie, Fetty chico, been around since '89

who to trust
Get ya crew clapped Like an audience
If you choose to shoot back
Get left blue black
Sting by scorpions
Please don’t do that
Thought you

on the phone
As if I'm ordering pizza
Pull up in a yacht in Ibiza
Blue passport no visa
Footprints on porcelain, adidas
Valet park the ghost I'm a diva
Louis V

the coupe 
All of my diamonds and bengis is blue 
I got Louis V Gucci snakes all on my shoe
Ayeeee
Like where the bitches at 
Cause I could jus hit up a few

to blame
Is it the pop culture
Or the Mary Janes
Real talk nigga
Man they all the same
And I live up in the blue skies
Haters wanna hate
So they scrutinize

leave him in a heap
Talkin' all that shit, you ain't never seen the street
Prolly lack of pussy so he need to beat his meat
Hangin' with his friends but

to this beat
Hopscotch
Where the rocks pop
Sizzle and steam
Where the 9 pop
Innocent teen
Better ride by
A different street
Where the sluts walk
I walk drug

they’re high street
Louis on her arm, Balenciaga’s size 3
She my queen, certified indeed
But you’re a freak undercover like CID
I saw a girl at a pret

nicks and dimes
Tuck the fifty's and blues
Give wifey the tens and fives
Can't be content with just gettin by
A nigga fly
Walk through
Bitches get

daughter
Diamonds like water
Money like trees
Smoking on gas, tell the ock I need leafs
Mike amiri
Louis the tee
Christian Dior only thing on my feet
I got

blues
I'mma tell yo' ass the truth!
This ain't got no shit to do
With some people that I knew
I'm just tryna make it through
I just linked up with Lynk
Ty

you failed to run it by me
Fuck a nine to five we in studios
The goons got blowers that will knock you out your Louis clothes
I don't got the time

wallet. 

Verse

If they watching boy I gotta be fresh 
That’s Gucci that’s loui my closet 
Now I got em impressed 
Take 2 to 2 I dropped it 
Look at my

I used to rap about fuck and now I rap about fucking
Walk in with Nikes and run out with Louis
Now I walk in Hermes while I'm rocking hot mommies
In

bitch, get your get back
Road running to that bag, getting to them blue strips
If you ain't talk about money, I don't hear shit
If you on that front line,

streets
Rocking Vlone with the homeland I'm repping like showing my strap like im LAPD

Gimme my shit yeah I want my bag
Left wrist tatted gotta Louis V tat

She lookin at me like
Imma change her life
But i aint finna call her
Don't stop at no street lights
Gotta call for the blues
I'll be back by the morning

with with the designs  
Of Louis Sullivan
And died taking pictures 
When the old Stock Exchange caved in 
His mangled body 
Was discovered by a crew
But

free range not the cage shit
Playing street fighter made a nigga rage quit
Shit we heavy on the sushi
Or in the shack watching blues brothers
Rest in

rave, studio porn, cali weed
Everyday, con la gang ...sulla street
By the way, pink empire firma un altra hit
Anyway, nuovo look, nuovo ink
Tutti real,

you gotta take that
Shit to the street
And bring it to a motherfucker’s back door
Right, right!
We ain't afraid of you motherfuckers!
Ain't nobody