Russ Millions - Nostalgia Lyrics
Greetings, music lovers. Welcome to PondokLirik! Today, we unravel the beauty within the lyrics of "Nostalgia" Russ Millions. Join us on this brief journey as we explore the emotional depth woven into each line, connecting with the universal language that is music.
Nostalgia Lyrics Russ Millions
[Verse 1: Russ Millions]
I wanna take a bad b, can cuz
Take one petite girl, up gyal like Julie
Live, I got a fat stick in the room
Slow down girl, I'm not a regular dude
Smoke ganja, I'm not suckin' balloons
You're my dancer, so I look out for you
Broski be where you geting to shoot
Action on sight, man step up a youth
Shotgun, long sweep, pop with the broom
When you see [?], man come and salute
Problem child, them back on my youth
And I still got a pagan boy in my zoo
This year we got more wax than drip
New handbag, make the hand ting fit
This car enter, we take that trip
I don't go taper, and I ain't been limbed (Shatta)
[Verse 2: RA]
We don't stick to the rap bar, stuck in the trap
Even though it made me rich
Need more racks, I need more cats
Some goon, ten toes in the strip
Like, nah, don't lack on my vans or flicks
I love my life, so I swing that shit
Need more wax, and we need more links
If you ain't got that, then 'llow the ting
It's a fact that, I aim this rap, right your snapback
It's a fact that, I swift spliff your chest, try chicken and patback
It's a fact that, that we all just speak facts, and the mandem rack that
It's a fact that, if it weren't something for music, I'd be stuck in the trap-trap
[Verse 3: Buni]
The opps got—, my friends are alive
—, up in the sky
—, up in the sky
If you ain't got—, then you'll be alive
One picked himself off, what? He'll revive
—, he felt my knife
And—, felt my knife and—, felt my knife like twice
Don't get me mad, cah I'm not that guy
Old school like shooting size
One drop you can lose your life
Stool always for the other side
Slap—, in his face, cause he's not that guy
—, that's a crucify
Give me one drop, you can lose your life
Stool always for the other side
[Verse 4: Oboy]
'Course the mandem slept like hammer's man press
Make the young G's wipe his chest, intentions
Different time that we score, dickhead
What you think we doing this for?
Had a .22, pass a .22, I was letting it roar
Still local for the cats, know I gotta get this cash
The dial out for the smackdown, no roar
That L put Greg on the floor, that white China sent—, to the mall
I can't go back to the—, what?
The feds went all the way banging on doors
And banging on mine, and you banging on yours
I'm patting up mine, go patting up yours
Nigga make sure, the judge gave me three and a half
But the extra days, turned eight to a four
As we wrap up our lyrical escapade, share your thoughts on the echoes that resonated with you in Nostalgia by Russ Millions. Music unites us, and your reflections add to the melody. Stay tuned for more musical discoveries!
