The Alchemist, Big Twins, Blu, Chuck Inglish - Yacht Rock (Side B) lyrics
The Alchemist [Alan Daniel Maman] Beverly Hills, CA, U.S. 🇺🇸
[The Alchemist, Big Twins, Blu, Chuck Inglish - Yacht Rock Side B lyrics]
We on a Yacht, celebrating non-stop
Burning pot
Thinking ‘bout the journey to the top
We on the grind ah, who knew this shit’ll pop
I didn’t see it it’s like
My mind had it blocked
Now we hot still to this day up shocked
Shorty flop, ready to jump right on the spot
‘Bout money, swingin’ till my man ops?
Stay focused, keep the rare words of my pops
Them niggas gon’ hate
Done till the day I drop
I don’t worry ‘bout a nine in the Stare? spot
Colours, Nardees with the buckets
Shorts with the Tims like, fuck it
Real foreign and the sports look rugged
So I tanned in the oven
Hardaway, Chris Mullin in the hallway
Getting money, get away when it’s sunny
Feeling lovely, the ball fades for the summer
Brush waves, book pays, get it done
Then we pumping ride around in the Saab 900
New Balance for the runners
Tanning with the honeys
At the stand to get lunch
Chop Salad with the onions
Out weird tryna function
Shooting Dice with the loved ones
(Damn, I couldn't even sway to it)
Bubble coats, tell coach I need the boat
And seldom let us float
So dope with no smoke
Murder she wrote, had her burner revoked
(decide)
Couldn’t compose it over burgers and coke
Ayo, pompously I approached her whole modesty
Novelty like a page out of
Poverty that I wrote
I told her I was dope (word up)
Yo, she didn’t believe me she was Stevie
Burning pot
Thinking ‘bout the journey to the top
We on the grind ah, who knew this shit’ll pop
I didn’t see it it’s like
My mind had it blocked
Now we hot still to this day up shocked
Shorty flop, ready to jump right on the spot
‘Bout money, swingin’ till my man ops?
Stay focused, keep the rare words of my pops
Them niggas gon’ hate
Done till the day I drop
I don’t worry ‘bout a nine in the Stare? spot
Colours, Nardees with the buckets
Shorts with the Tims like, fuck it
Real foreign and the sports look rugged
So I tanned in the oven
Hardaway, Chris Mullin in the hallway
Getting money, get away when it’s sunny
Feeling lovely, the ball fades for the summer
Brush waves, book pays, get it done
Then we pumping ride around in the Saab 900
New Balance for the runners
Tanning with the honeys
At the stand to get lunch
Chop Salad with the onions
Out weird tryna function
Shooting Dice with the loved ones
(Damn, I couldn't even sway to it)
Bubble coats, tell coach I need the boat
And seldom let us float
So dope with no smoke
Murder she wrote, had her burner revoked
(decide)
Couldn’t compose it over burgers and coke
Ayo, pompously I approached her whole modesty
Novelty like a page out of
Poverty that I wrote
I told her I was dope (word up)
Yo, she didn’t believe me she was Stevie