"Editorials" lyrics
Jay Worthy, Harry Fraud & Curren$y Lyrics
(La Musica de Harry Fraud)
Blood Orange Pellegrino match the flame Buick Regal
The way I play the Vegas strip, you would think I'm Bugsy Siegel
This the rebirth of Max Julien, I'm far from a Hooligan
A soft spoken gentlemen, who got a few lady friends
SL Mercedes Benz, that's just for the weekends
The fruits of her labor, what she did for a Mac then
Electric blinds sliding down the windows at the Bel Air
Room Service, Champagne bottles in the hot tub
Private suite, told her book that shit for another week
Egyptian cotton pillow sheets, nothing but the best for P
Funny thing is, a nigga live right up the street
Close to the Palisades, but I can't give too much away
They follow niggas home, and leave 'em soaking in they driveway
That's why you'll never catch me hanging with a bitch up at my own place
Fuck a stash in my ride, it's in my lap when I slide, mane
'Cause nowadays, you gotta be the first to squeeze your shit, gang
Editorial, how the story go?
It was the beat or me, I can't be sorry fo'
Moving on our road, like dice across the globe
On ice, yellow gold Millionaire, mellow flow
Professional Camaro, pedal steppin' on
This the '90, my other one a '81
I'm seconds from the top, where haters come
Gunning for your spot, you gotta watch out, my nigga, and wait for them
Sure as the morning will bring us the sun
Them niggas hungry, and they want it
But them niggas don't want to work for nothin'
But they lurk in the shadows
They wait until you look too comfortable, then they decide to attack you
The fact them niggas coming for you just look bad for you
But you can't let no fuck shit happen too you
Blood Orange Pellegrino match the flame Buick Regal
The way I play the Vegas strip, you would think I'm Bugsy Siegel
This the rebirth of Max Julien, I'm far from a Hooligan
A soft spoken gentlemen, who got a few lady friends
SL Mercedes Benz, that's just for the weekends
The fruits of her labor, what she did for a Mac then
Electric blinds sliding down the windows at the Bel Air
Room Service, Champagne bottles in the hot tub
Private suite, told her book that shit for another week
Egyptian cotton pillow sheets, nothing but the best for P
Funny thing is, a nigga live right up the street
Close to the Palisades, but I can't give too much away
They follow niggas home, and leave 'em soaking in they driveway
That's why you'll never catch me hanging with a bitch up at my own place
Fuck a stash in my ride, it's in my lap when I slide, mane
'Cause nowadays, you gotta be the first to squeeze your shit, gang
Editorial, how the story go?
It was the beat or me, I can't be sorry fo'
Moving on our road, like dice across the globe
On ice, yellow gold Millionaire, mellow flow
Professional Camaro, pedal steppin' on
This the '90, my other one a '81
I'm seconds from the top, where haters come
Gunning for your spot, you gotta watch out, my nigga, and wait for them
Sure as the morning will bring us the sun
Them niggas hungry, and they want it
But them niggas don't want to work for nothin'
But they lurk in the shadows
They wait until you look too comfortable, then they decide to attack you
The fact them niggas coming for you just look bad for you
But you can't let no fuck shit happen too you
