(sing a song to me, sing a song to me) .... Oh, slow hot wind, hot wind Oh, slow hot wind, hot wind Oh, slow hot wind, hot wind
over me now (Like) a slow hot wind Some days It's too warm to fight A slow hot wind There in the shade Like a cool drink waiting She sat with slow
Traduction: Julee Cruise. Slow vent chaud.
And they say what comes around goes around So the cristal rolls ya down til it slows ya down I got a smoother style Fo me it's +Slow Motion+ like Juvenile
no bring no men,come to my show then,see dont cha head be open from tha lead im throwin u gon die from chockin wit slow wind,im doin this one herr
spot at the right time Lights on or lights off, she like it from behind So seductive, you should see the way she wind Her hips in slow-mo on the floor
want that shit" "I don't give a fuck, I don't play dat shit" "And I'm fin'nin to buss a cap in a nigga" "Man SHUT the fuck up" "Whoa slow down, slow down, slow
dem shots an drop it like it's hot Bitch Nigga [Chorus] [Talkin:] Ha-ha-ha Yea Nigga Just when you thought I was gone Slide back up on you like the wind
Wind Blow [Layzie Bone:] Bone Thugs n Harmony A yo we aint always been accepted like this till (Listen to the wind blow) A nigga got dat Grammy Open
Busta bust Yo, we make the shit wild hot Busta:We got Kamaal Complete, we make the shit wild hot Q-Tip:I got the Busta bust Yo, we make the shit wild hot
'abandon, tout s'apprend The autumn Sun, indulgent The naked skins offer themselves to warm winds Out there, the tempos appear Beating to the slow
had fantasized about Christmas in this way Curled up by a fireplace in a Tahoe ski chalet With a fast talking lover and some slow burning wood But even
drop anymore And you can never break my stride You never slow the momentum; at any moment I'm about to blow You'll never take my pride Killing the flow, slow
She smells like taco's I want to eat Visions of hot choclatey marshmallows Also sweet With sugar plums Oh look, here comes Marshall he's on your street He's placing hot
lo Pull up to the crib and I hit dawn Beep beep Rick Dinero (Boss) And I quip the lado (what) That's right let me flip the car doe In the wind, might
you preparin' ya burial They tracin' tha weapon after you scratch off the serial Leaves you up like cereal, there it is and there we go Some bad Didos ridin' off in tha wind
