Bonfire (feat. Sundown) 歌词
| 歌曲 | Bonfire (feat. Sundown) |
| 歌手 | Halo |
| 专辑 | Mansa Musa (Guest Starring Masta Killa) |
| 下载 | Image LRC TXT |
| [Hook: HaLo] | |
| Bodybag and bonfire, pour gasoline pon the liar | |
| Watch the flame grow higher | |
| Flame grow higher, flame grow higher | |
| Remove ya from ay and ay, yes, aya | |
| [Verse 1: HaLo] | |
| Back with the boulevard bullies, we keep it bumpin’ | |
| Barbarian bone cru*****n’ and body dumpin’ | |
| Bodybags and bonfire, pour gasoline pon the liar | |
| Watch the flame grow higha | |
| Smell of burnt tire, 87 **** boy attire | |
| Rooftop Bruce-E-Bee on the flier, word to Macaya | |
| This maniac Machiaveli mastermind messiah never retire | |
| Tighten your lace, gravitate and grab a taste | |
| No matter the pace, marathon we on the race | |
| Cross the finish line with grace, gargantuan greats | |
| That gather in goodness but they gruesomely tame | |
| It’s to our mothers then brothers, fathers, sisters and mothers | |
| That found a groove in the gutter, our flows are newly discovered | |
| Just throwin’ food in the cupboard, ninjas on the run eatin’ like | |
| What, what, wha-wha-what, we all screamin’ | |
| [Hook] | |
| [Verse 2: HaLo] | |
| Get the papers, get the papers, Goodfella | |
| Gravitational pull to a caper, manana, I see you later | |
| Lollapalooza loungin’ lyrical laser laceration | |
| Of rappers I used to have admiration but now we chasin’ the same goal | |
| Sayin’ my name slow, H to the A-Lo | |
| HaLo spell hey low | |
| Really dark place where the game go, stay in your lane bro | |
| Beeps bang my bank rolls with flame throws | |
| Float with the bank teller, hey sun*****ne | |
| Predictable everyday I’m online | |
| When money’s on my mind, coordinate a time | |
| The people watch from the balcony or hire twisted limes | |
| Nutrition food for thought missin’ | |
| They say flipped birds’ll feed a pigeon | |
| I drift corners, hoop-d transmission | |
| In this game I receive what I’ve given | |
| Collide and collision, kaleidoscope the vision | |
| Word to my uncles in prison I’m bout to get ‘em | |
| Goblin green, black leather with the lean | |
| Monster scream when I saber with the beam | |
| What’s poppin’ yahmean? We so bout it | |
| The architect path, I reroute it | |
| So ease out it before they read about it | |
| Clear skies’ll quickly turn cloudy | |
| Everywhere in the hemisphere you never there | |
| They sip Everclear tint in my eyes [?] | |
| Yea, I dance on ‘em like Fred Estere | |
| She wanna ball in the mall so I left her there | |
| Da*****n’ and devonair | |
| Couldn’t think of a better pair to scramble the letters yea | |
| The low tide tied with the moon | |
| Wave water you assume, keep your ears on the boom, ***** | |
| [Hook] | |
| [Verse 3: Sundown] | |
| The Voltron skull and the *****p’s hull I’m burnin’ *****t | |
| Call me the captain I’m rappin’ and navigatin’ | |
| Through the underworld metropolis droppin’ a couple gems off | |
| It’s O2 inside the gills let the beat breathe | |
| Abstract like a Shaq free throw with the Magic | |
| Off centre but I’m young in my career, still | |
| It’s no Kobe appropriately a penny stock | |
| And no free stocks I came up in the 90’s son | |
| The abstract backpacker Dillaton I’m a Nike check expert | |
| Nextel chirpin’ and the next clientele go and get it | |
| Supreme well-wi*****n’ back into the pennies that I rock for junior varsity | |
| It’s young Hardaway proudly in the verse | |
| And politikin’ respect for crossover appeal | |
| Yo, I’m UTEP two-steppin’ and I peel back ya thinkin’ caps | |
| It’s grey matter brain fragments | |
| Splatter your thoughts on a wall so what’s happenin’ | |
| [Hook] |
| Hook: HaLo | |
| Bodybag and bonfire, pour gasoline pon the liar | |
| Watch the flame grow higher | |
| Flame grow higher, flame grow higher | |
| Remove ya from ay and ay, yes, aya | |
| Verse 1: HaLo | |
| Back with the boulevard bullies, we keep it bumpin' | |
| Barbarian bone cru n' and body dumpin' | |
| Bodybags and bonfire, pour gasoline pon the liar | |
| Watch the flame grow higha | |
| Smell of burnt tire, 87 boy attire | |
| Rooftop BruceEBee on the flier, word to Macaya | |
| This maniac Machiaveli mastermind messiah never retire | |
| Tighten your lace, gravitate and grab a taste | |
| No matter the pace, marathon we on the race | |
| Cross the finish line with grace, gargantuan greats | |
| That gather in goodness but they gruesomely tame | |
| It' s to our mothers then brothers, fathers, sisters and mothers | |
| That found a groove in the gutter, our flows are newly discovered | |
| Just throwin' food in the cupboard, ninjas on the run eatin' like | |
| What, what, whawhawhat, we all screamin' | |
| Hook | |
| Verse 2: HaLo | |
| Get the papers, get the papers, Goodfella | |
| Gravitational pull to a caper, manana, I see you later | |
| Lollapalooza loungin' lyrical laser laceration | |
| Of rappers I used to have admiration but now we chasin' the same goal | |
| Sayin' my name slow, H to the ALo | |
| HaLo spell hey low | |
| Really dark place where the game go, stay in your lane bro | |
| Beeps bang my bank rolls with flame throws | |
| Float with the bank teller, hey sun ne | |
| Predictable everyday I' m online | |
| When money' s on my mind, coordinate a time | |
| The people watch from the balcony or hire twisted limes | |
| Nutrition food for thought missin' | |
| They say flipped birds' ll feed a pigeon | |
| I drift corners, hoopd transmission | |
| In this game I receive what I' ve given | |
| Collide and collision, kaleidoscope the vision | |
| Word to my uncles in prison I' m bout to get ' em | |
| Goblin green, black leather with the lean | |
| Monster scream when I saber with the beam | |
| What' s poppin' yahmean? We so bout it | |
| The architect path, I reroute it | |
| So ease out it before they read about it | |
| Clear skies' ll quickly turn cloudy | |
| Everywhere in the hemisphere you never there | |
| They sip Everclear tint in my eyes ? | |
| Yea, I dance on ' em like Fred Estere | |
| She wanna ball in the mall so I left her there | |
| Da n' and devonair | |
| Couldn' t think of a better pair to scramble the letters yea | |
| The low tide tied with the moon | |
| Wave water you assume, keep your ears on the boom, | |
| Hook | |
| Verse 3: Sundown | |
| The Voltron skull and the p' s hull I' m burnin' t | |
| Call me the captain I' m rappin' and navigatin' | |
| Through the underworld metropolis droppin' a couple gems off | |
| It' s O2 inside the gills let the beat breathe | |
| Abstract like a Shaq free throw with the Magic | |
| Off centre but I' m young in my career, still | |
| It' s no Kobe appropriately a penny stock | |
| And no free stocks I came up in the 90' s son | |
| The abstract backpacker Dillaton I' m a Nike check expert | |
| Nextel chirpin' and the next clientele go and get it | |
| Supreme wellwi n' back into the pennies that I rock for junior varsity | |
| It' s young Hardaway proudly in the verse | |
| And politikin' respect for crossover appeal | |
| Yo, I' m UTEP twosteppin' and I peel back ya thinkin' caps | |
| It' s grey matter brain fragments | |
| Splatter your thoughts on a wall so what' s happenin' | |
| Hook |
| Hook: HaLo | |
| Bodybag and bonfire, pour gasoline pon the liar | |
| Watch the flame grow higher | |
| Flame grow higher, flame grow higher | |
| Remove ya from ay and ay, yes, aya | |
| Verse 1: HaLo | |
| Back with the boulevard bullies, we keep it bumpin' | |
| Barbarian bone cru n' and body dumpin' | |
| Bodybags and bonfire, pour gasoline pon the liar | |
| Watch the flame grow higha | |
| Smell of burnt tire, 87 boy attire | |
| Rooftop BruceEBee on the flier, word to Macaya | |
| This maniac Machiaveli mastermind messiah never retire | |
| Tighten your lace, gravitate and grab a taste | |
| No matter the pace, marathon we on the race | |
| Cross the finish line with grace, gargantuan greats | |
| That gather in goodness but they gruesomely tame | |
| It' s to our mothers then brothers, fathers, sisters and mothers | |
| That found a groove in the gutter, our flows are newly discovered | |
| Just throwin' food in the cupboard, ninjas on the run eatin' like | |
| What, what, whawhawhat, we all screamin' | |
| Hook | |
| Verse 2: HaLo | |
| Get the papers, get the papers, Goodfella | |
| Gravitational pull to a caper, manana, I see you later | |
| Lollapalooza loungin' lyrical laser laceration | |
| Of rappers I used to have admiration but now we chasin' the same goal | |
| Sayin' my name slow, H to the ALo | |
| HaLo spell hey low | |
| Really dark place where the game go, stay in your lane bro | |
| Beeps bang my bank rolls with flame throws | |
| Float with the bank teller, hey sun ne | |
| Predictable everyday I' m online | |
| When money' s on my mind, coordinate a time | |
| The people watch from the balcony or hire twisted limes | |
| Nutrition food for thought missin' | |
| They say flipped birds' ll feed a pigeon | |
| I drift corners, hoopd transmission | |
| In this game I receive what I' ve given | |
| Collide and collision, kaleidoscope the vision | |
| Word to my uncles in prison I' m bout to get ' em | |
| Goblin green, black leather with the lean | |
| Monster scream when I saber with the beam | |
| What' s poppin' yahmean? We so bout it | |
| The architect path, I reroute it | |
| So ease out it before they read about it | |
| Clear skies' ll quickly turn cloudy | |
| Everywhere in the hemisphere you never there | |
| They sip Everclear tint in my eyes ? | |
| Yea, I dance on ' em like Fred Estere | |
| She wanna ball in the mall so I left her there | |
| Da n' and devonair | |
| Couldn' t think of a better pair to scramble the letters yea | |
| The low tide tied with the moon | |
| Wave water you assume, keep your ears on the boom, | |
| Hook | |
| Verse 3: Sundown | |
| The Voltron skull and the p' s hull I' m burnin' t | |
| Call me the captain I' m rappin' and navigatin' | |
| Through the underworld metropolis droppin' a couple gems off | |
| It' s O2 inside the gills let the beat breathe | |
| Abstract like a Shaq free throw with the Magic | |
| Off centre but I' m young in my career, still | |
| It' s no Kobe appropriately a penny stock | |
| And no free stocks I came up in the 90' s son | |
| The abstract backpacker Dillaton I' m a Nike check expert | |
| Nextel chirpin' and the next clientele go and get it | |
| Supreme wellwi n' back into the pennies that I rock for junior varsity | |
| It' s young Hardaway proudly in the verse | |
| And politikin' respect for crossover appeal | |
| Yo, I' m UTEP twosteppin' and I peel back ya thinkin' caps | |
| It' s grey matter brain fragments | |
| Splatter your thoughts on a wall so what' s happenin' | |
| Hook |
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