Lirik Lagu Sun Don't Shine - Chris Young
X
TIPS PENCARIAN LIRIK FAVORIT ANDA
ANDA MENGETAHUI JUDUL DAN NAMA PENYANYI
- Ketikkan nama penyanyi dan judul lagu, berikan tanda kutip di judul lagu, misal: Yovie "Menjaga Hati";
- bila tidak berhasil, coba untuk mengilangkan tanda kutip, misal: Yovie Menjaga Hati; atau
- dapat juga dengan mengeklik menu A B C D.., lalu cari berdasarkan nama artis. Yovie dimulai dengan Y, klik Y. Lihat daftar lagu, dan dapatkan yang Anda cari.
ANDA TAK MENGETAHUI JUDUL LAGU, TAPI MENGETAHUI NAMA PENYANYI
- Ketik nama penyanyi, misal: YOVIE, akan muncul banyak halaman, telusuri dan pilih dari halaman-halaman tersebut; atau
- klik menu A B C D E ... berdasarkan nama artis Y, cari Yovie, dan cari lirik yang Anda cari.
ANDA TAK MENGETAHUI JUDUL LAGU, TAPI MENGETAHUI SYAIR
- Ketikkan penggalan syair yang Anda ketahui, misal:
Tanpamu tiada berarti
Tak mampu lagi berdiri
Cahaya kasihmu menuntunku
Kembali dalam dekapan tanganmu - Masukkan kata-kata penting. Misal: tiada berarti berdiri cahaya dekapan.
- Hindari kata-kata yang berkemungkinan memiliki ada dua versi atau lebih. Misal: tanpamu dapat ditulis tanpa mu.
TETAP TIDAK DAPAT MENEMUKAN LIRIK YANG ANDA CARI
- Pilih menu A B C D E ... berdasarkan nama artis atau judul lagu.
- Bila masih tidak dapat menemukan lirik yang Anda cari, mungkin kami bisa membantu Anda. Silakan menghubungi kami.
Yeah...for my street niggas
[Chorus - girl singing (Oschino)]The sun never shines in the ghettoIt always rains in the hoodHeavy metals ring in the ghettoEverybody moves 'caine in the hood (everybody move them things)This for my niggas who stay in the ghetto (to my niggas stay in the ghetto)
It's lots of shine in the ghettoToo many haters in the hood (too hard, niggas be hatin)Gotta watch what you doinThe ghetto only cop black shine in the hood (Freeway, Young Gunz)This for my niggas who thug like street lights in the ghetto (Oschino)
[Verse One: Oschino]Yo we gotta, hollow the gat, bottle the smackWhen the cops pull up we gotta swallow the crackAll my niggas did time like Geronimo PrepSee the Benz like damn, what model is thatOschino, the nigga who was locked in a cageNiggas clockin my style like flavor flaveFuck gettin the Source Award, or gettin Five MicsI'm happy just gettin my daughter a pink bikeA roof over her head and some Barbie skatesIt's plenty of nights man, I hardly ateI'm from where the summers dangerous, the winters is coldAnd bitches pop Van X's like birth controlI got bitches on death row, stuck with a cell numberSo close to Jesus they got his cell numberThe ghetto is trife, this is my lifeHow many rappers you know been down for murder twice?
[Verse Two: Neef]Yo what up wit ch'all niggasWhat it look like?Throw it in the pot, see if the shit cook rightWe can get it down, see if it bubble white or brownTake it to the town and break my youngin's downIt's doin good, business is lookin fineGet 'em for 20, but maybe 29Youngin out on his grind, youngin poppin 'em nine'sI'm a juvenile delinquent, youngin was doin timeCause Judge Reynold's left it up to my mom (what else?)And I was thinkin like, damn ain't that crazy?But mom duke's can't live without her baaabyI'm back home, thrity eight strong, out on my ownThinkin, get it wit chromeFuck makin them songs, but my mind right nowAnd this rap shit be my grind right now (now...now...)
[Chorus - girl singing]The sun never shines in the ghettoIt always rains in the hoodHeavy metals ring in the ghettoEverybody moves Cain in the hoodThis for my niggas who stay in the ghetto
It's lots of shine in the ghettoToo many haters in the hoodGotta watch what you doinThe ghetto only cop black shine in the hoodThis for my niggas who thug like street lights in the ghetto
[Verse Three: Young Chris]You wanna shit on? I'm on your boy like the narc's on 'emYou ever heard a nigga's lawyer scared to talk for him?Creep in the dark on him, the led bark on himI'm on his head til the Fed's spread chalk for himThat's how we do it dawg, these the last daysYeah I had my bad days, I been through it ch'allBut I grew back (grew back)Got my groove back (groove back)That's how we do in trainin, cockin them two's backSame dudes namin', givin up newsGettin up on the stand, endin up on the newsIt's fucked up what that pressure'll doAnd you don't wanna fuck up when they questionin youLecturin you, tryin to get shit up outta youCrucial beatdowns til the bitch come up outta youCris come up outta you, dough that ain't right to doPut that dough and get your body viewed
[Verse Four: Freeway]Let me get five for twenty, or seven for thrityThat shit that you hear in the ghettoThey don't care in the hoodCop four twenties and seven thirtiesThen niggas disappear from the ghettoGet snatched from the hoodFeds grab 'em, and some get put in the dirtSome live in grime, good with the workStick up kids get hit with the nineBut the funeral parlor good with embalming fluidGood with the hearstSome niggas don't even grindBut still make a stack every other night, good with the diceSo it don't even matter, get hungry in the hoodMiss Low is sharp with the platters, good with the riceAnd her daughter's just like herShootouts, they stash my guns, and I got away good with the knifesThe end of the nights, stash my onesCause I'm good with the rocks, the smokers good with pipes
[Chorus]
[Chorus - girl singing (Oschino)]The sun never shines in the ghettoIt always rains in the hoodHeavy metals ring in the ghettoEverybody moves 'caine in the hood (everybody move them things)This for my niggas who stay in the ghetto (to my niggas stay in the ghetto)
It's lots of shine in the ghettoToo many haters in the hood (too hard, niggas be hatin)Gotta watch what you doinThe ghetto only cop black shine in the hood (Freeway, Young Gunz)This for my niggas who thug like street lights in the ghetto (Oschino)
[Verse One: Oschino]Yo we gotta, hollow the gat, bottle the smackWhen the cops pull up we gotta swallow the crackAll my niggas did time like Geronimo PrepSee the Benz like damn, what model is thatOschino, the nigga who was locked in a cageNiggas clockin my style like flavor flaveFuck gettin the Source Award, or gettin Five MicsI'm happy just gettin my daughter a pink bikeA roof over her head and some Barbie skatesIt's plenty of nights man, I hardly ateI'm from where the summers dangerous, the winters is coldAnd bitches pop Van X's like birth controlI got bitches on death row, stuck with a cell numberSo close to Jesus they got his cell numberThe ghetto is trife, this is my lifeHow many rappers you know been down for murder twice?
[Verse Two: Neef]Yo what up wit ch'all niggasWhat it look like?Throw it in the pot, see if the shit cook rightWe can get it down, see if it bubble white or brownTake it to the town and break my youngin's downIt's doin good, business is lookin fineGet 'em for 20, but maybe 29Youngin out on his grind, youngin poppin 'em nine'sI'm a juvenile delinquent, youngin was doin timeCause Judge Reynold's left it up to my mom (what else?)And I was thinkin like, damn ain't that crazy?But mom duke's can't live without her baaabyI'm back home, thrity eight strong, out on my ownThinkin, get it wit chromeFuck makin them songs, but my mind right nowAnd this rap shit be my grind right now (now...now...)
[Chorus - girl singing]The sun never shines in the ghettoIt always rains in the hoodHeavy metals ring in the ghettoEverybody moves Cain in the hoodThis for my niggas who stay in the ghetto
It's lots of shine in the ghettoToo many haters in the hoodGotta watch what you doinThe ghetto only cop black shine in the hoodThis for my niggas who thug like street lights in the ghetto
[Verse Three: Young Chris]You wanna shit on? I'm on your boy like the narc's on 'emYou ever heard a nigga's lawyer scared to talk for him?Creep in the dark on him, the led bark on himI'm on his head til the Fed's spread chalk for himThat's how we do it dawg, these the last daysYeah I had my bad days, I been through it ch'allBut I grew back (grew back)Got my groove back (groove back)That's how we do in trainin, cockin them two's backSame dudes namin', givin up newsGettin up on the stand, endin up on the newsIt's fucked up what that pressure'll doAnd you don't wanna fuck up when they questionin youLecturin you, tryin to get shit up outta youCrucial beatdowns til the bitch come up outta youCris come up outta you, dough that ain't right to doPut that dough and get your body viewed
[Verse Four: Freeway]Let me get five for twenty, or seven for thrityThat shit that you hear in the ghettoThey don't care in the hoodCop four twenties and seven thirtiesThen niggas disappear from the ghettoGet snatched from the hoodFeds grab 'em, and some get put in the dirtSome live in grime, good with the workStick up kids get hit with the nineBut the funeral parlor good with embalming fluidGood with the hearstSome niggas don't even grindBut still make a stack every other night, good with the diceSo it don't even matter, get hungry in the hoodMiss Low is sharp with the platters, good with the riceAnd her daughter's just like herShootouts, they stash my guns, and I got away good with the knifesThe end of the nights, stash my onesCause I'm good with the rocks, the smokers good with pipes
[Chorus]
