Tyga - Summertime lyrics
Tyga [Michael Ray Nguyen-Stevenson] Compton, California, U.S. 🇺🇸
[Tyga - Summertime lyrics]
This that feel good music right here
Haha it feels good don't it?
Summer, Summer, Summer, Summertime
Remember those?
Summer, Summer, Summer, Summertime
The best times was the
Summer, Summer, Summer, Summertime
I love those
Summer, Summer, Summer, Summertime
Summertime, the right time
Daytime, right length, right watch
Like the nice guy, fly guy wit a nice guy
Gucci top with the Nike highs
Or the LV with the V-Neck T
Fly, so fly on the beach beach chair loud
Damn, champagne from the liquor bank
On my way to the Chevron got a full tank
Now we ride and wherever he wanna go
She know I spend C notes on all my peoples
Well done
Ain't nothing like the pool party fun
I got plenty drink, give the pool party some
Red rum the whole bottle of patron
But, no worries, baby I got more to poor
Catering from Roscoe's, Chicken and waffles
Together politicking blacks, whites
And Asians i love
Oh, the man rose with the millionaire stroke
From the 323, to the 310 i got my 23's on
Jordan's so important
With my fit already scorching
And then 15, before 7 to the Porsche's
We do the 23's
No rims, if you see them laid back
Just hide til' the driver drive and some
Of em' get million dollar profit's
Got it? Now put the Tyga
CD in and stop poppin' meet the bad guy
They call me God in the blue Bugatti
Yeah I'm styling in the 6 series
With a bulk wallet
Stop it, hah, the sunset looking violent
Come vibe with em' get it poppin'
No violence
No alarm sirens, just me and you cruisin'
To the music, this how a young boss do it
Haha it feels good don't it?
Summer, Summer, Summer, Summertime
Remember those?
Summer, Summer, Summer, Summertime
The best times was the
Summer, Summer, Summer, Summertime
I love those
Summer, Summer, Summer, Summertime
Summertime, the right time
Daytime, right length, right watch
Like the nice guy, fly guy wit a nice guy
Gucci top with the Nike highs
Or the LV with the V-Neck T
Fly, so fly on the beach beach chair loud
Damn, champagne from the liquor bank
On my way to the Chevron got a full tank
Now we ride and wherever he wanna go
She know I spend C notes on all my peoples
Well done
Ain't nothing like the pool party fun
I got plenty drink, give the pool party some
Red rum the whole bottle of patron
But, no worries, baby I got more to poor
Catering from Roscoe's, Chicken and waffles
Together politicking blacks, whites
And Asians i love
Oh, the man rose with the millionaire stroke
From the 323, to the 310 i got my 23's on
Jordan's so important
With my fit already scorching
And then 15, before 7 to the Porsche's
We do the 23's
No rims, if you see them laid back
Just hide til' the driver drive and some
Of em' get million dollar profit's
Got it? Now put the Tyga
CD in and stop poppin' meet the bad guy
They call me God in the blue Bugatti
Yeah I'm styling in the 6 series
With a bulk wallet
Stop it, hah, the sunset looking violent
Come vibe with em' get it poppin'
No violence
No alarm sirens, just me and you cruisin'
To the music, this how a young boss do it