Your native language

عربي

Arabic

عربي

简体中文

Chinese

简体中文

Nederlands

Dutch

Nederlands

Français

French

Français

Deutsch

German

Deutsch

Italiano

Italian

Italiano

日本語

Japanese

日本語

한국인

Korean

한국인

Polski

Polish

Polski

Português

Portuguese

Português

Română

Romanian

Română

Русский

Russian

Русский

Español

Spanish

Español

Türk

Turkish

Türk

Українська

Ukrainian

Українська
User Avatar

Ses


Arayüz


Zorluk seviyesi


Aksan



arayüz dili

tr

Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Çerez politikası   |   Destek   |   FAQ
1
Kayıt Giriş
Lyrkit

bağış yapmak

5$

Lyrkit

bağış yapmak

10$

Lyrkit

bağış yapmak

20$

Lyrkit

Ve/veya beni sosyal medyada destekleyin. ağlar:


Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Rick Ross

Season Ticket Holder

 

Season Ticket Holder


[Dwyane Wade (Udonis Haslem):]
Hey UD
What's good my boy?
Mister 305 (Yessir)
Wade County
Sixteen years later
We done made history
(Three rings on our fingers)
(Pockets getting fatter) Uh
(Nigga we getting bread)

[Dwyane Wade:]
I'm the son of a saint, still considered a sinner (Ha)
Three rings on his finger, yeah, that boy was a winner (Winner)
Never known as a singer but this might be a single (Facts)
Always bet on your homies, then go buy the casino (Ballin')
Ball is my passion, check my stats if they asking (Uh)
Shawty checking my page, she follow my fashion (I'm clean)
My life is a film and Gab's the lead
She's so precious to me, as the air that I breathe
Time to fuel up the jet, D-Wade jersey the drip (Yeah)
Lamborghini's to match, got Guccis on the strip (Oh yeah)
These haters beneath us as I'm lacing my sneakers (You dig?)
Season sixteen, Lamborghinis and Neimans

[Rick Ross:]
I'm shooting my shot (Shot)
Every car that I cop (Cop), every record I break (Break)
Every rock in my watch (Ah)
Every step that I take (Take)
Still won't step no mistakes (No)
I'm talking major league, never minimum wage
So proud to be niggas (Niggas), the descent of a slave (Uh)
Motorcades, silver Mercedes, so get out my way
Tangerines, still in my slippers, still twisting up dank
Shed a tear for all my homies, Black Bo and E. Gates
Let's find a masseuse, then inspire the youth
If it's best for the hood, then let's call it a truce
My chains get tangled (Tangled), these niggas be hateful (Hate)
My momma still praying (Prayin'), so really I'm grateful
(Maybach Music)

[Raphael Saadiq:]
I'm still here, looking through the window
Watching the days go by
Watching the sun rise, why don't you try?
Ah-ha, ah-ha, ah-ha
I'm still here, looking through the window
Watching the days go by
Watching the sun rise, why don't you try?
Ah-ha, ah-ha, ah-ha

[Rick Ross:]
I promise to pray for a positive fate
Had the world in your palms, but he caught him a case
Shed a tear in the court, he got boxed in the crate
Then they shipped him up North, mom just sat in a daze
The bottles on ice, the models be nice (Yeah)
We call it running shoe, any problems deny
Serve him like Boris Becker, I want two hunnid Checkers
So if they wanna slow our records, it just won't affect us
Take my boys to Mecca (Boss), all my niggas blessed (Maybach Music)
Smoking with my dawgs, you can smell the relish
They try to give me Hell, I bet I get to Heaven
I stay away from twelve, I'm such a gifted felon
I'm seated on the floor (Floor)
She can see the loafers (Woo)
Showing love to the season ticket holders (Woo)
Showing love to the season ticket holders (Woo)
Showing love to the season ticket holders (Woo)

[Dwyane Wade (Udonis Haslem):]
We do this for the city, U (What?)
(The whole city)

[Raphael Saadiq:]
I'm still here, looking through the window
Watching the days go by
Watching the sun rise, why don't you try?
Ah-ha, ah-ha, ah-ha
I'm still here, looking through the window
Watching the days go by
Watching the sun rise, why don't you try?
Ah-ha, ah-ha, ah-ha

[Dwyane Wade (Udonis Haslem):]
Man, how does it feel, dawg?
You love doing this
How does it feel?
(Shit it feel great, baby, I know [?] South Beach 'til I got [?])
(I just want to know that my boy)
Man listen, we put on for the city, sixteen years
Five finals, three rings, we put those trophies over here
We put on for the shit, let me calm down
Man, let me calm down, man fuck
(Don't calm down my nigga)
(You the mothafucking Mr. 305, nigga, do what you do)
Nigga I got my own county
Listen, the love of the city has been crazy, man, I appreciate it all
Thanks for giving my own county
(I told these niggas man, you got a beast?)
(I gotta cross that bridge, nigga can't play with us, man)
(Can't do nothing 'round here)
Hey Ross, man, ain't nothing but love, baby
(Big homie, you know what it is, always)
(Still with the shits, three rings later though)

Tamamlandı

Bu şarkıdaki tüm yabancı kelimeleri eklediniz mi?