Les paroles de la chanson
« Ghetto baby »
Lana Del Rey
You got a face like the Madonna,
Crying tears of gold.
Been pumping gas at the Texaco,
Road to road,
You’re on the run, oh, baby,
Yeah, you’re on the run, oh baby.
I’m not a trick but,
I’m a trick for you.
You give me butterflies,
Heart skipping one two.
I know you’re sick boy,
I wanna get the flu,
I’m running temperatures,
Thinking of your love, boo.
Brooklyn move my soul like this,
Kissing my stilettos,
Move your mouth up to my lips.
Come on over ghetto baby.
(He say "Show me what you got girl").
Come on over ghetto baby.
("Drop it like it’s hot girl").
I know your lips say that you wanna,
But your heart’s a no.
But boy your hips say that your gonna,
When you hold me, hold me.
You’re so fun, b-baby, you,
Are too much fun, b-baby.
My local rock star,
The WillyB crew,
I’m feeling you boy,
You’re liking me too.
I’m clocking chicks,
Left and right,
Just to get to you.
You’re out there,
On the grind now come home,
To your queen, boo.
Brooklyn move my soul like this,
Kissing my stilettos,
Move your mouth up to my lips.
Come on over ghetto baby.
(He say "Show me what you got girl").
Come on over ghetto baby.
("Drop it like it’s hot girl").
Brooklyn move my soul like this,
Kissing my stilettos,
Move your mouth up to my lips.
Come on over ghetto baby.
(He say "Show me what you got girl").
Come on over ghetto baby.
("Drop it like it’s hot girl").
We’re a match made in heaven,
If they’re gonna talk let ’em.
If they don’t think we’re good together,
Baby just forget ’em.
When he’s bad he’s bad.
But when he’s good no one’s better.
’Cause we’re a match made in heaven,
And this kind of love’s forever.
Brooklyn move my soul like this,
Kissing my stilettos,
Move your mouth up to my lips.
Come on over ghetto baby.
(He say "Show me what you got girl").
Come on over ghetto baby.
("Drop it like it’s hot girl").
Brooklyn move my soul like this,
Kissing my stilettos,
Move your mouth up to my lips.
Come on over ghetto baby.
(He say "Show me what you got girl").
Come on over ghetto baby.
("Drop it like it’s hot girl").
Crying tears of gold.
Been pumping gas at the Texaco,
Road to road,
You’re on the run, oh, baby,
Yeah, you’re on the run, oh baby.
I’m not a trick but,
I’m a trick for you.
You give me butterflies,
Heart skipping one two.
I know you’re sick boy,
I wanna get the flu,
I’m running temperatures,
Thinking of your love, boo.
Brooklyn move my soul like this,
Kissing my stilettos,
Move your mouth up to my lips.
Come on over ghetto baby.
(He say "Show me what you got girl").
Come on over ghetto baby.
("Drop it like it’s hot girl").
I know your lips say that you wanna,
But your heart’s a no.
But boy your hips say that your gonna,
When you hold me, hold me.
You’re so fun, b-baby, you,
Are too much fun, b-baby.
My local rock star,
The WillyB crew,
I’m feeling you boy,
You’re liking me too.
I’m clocking chicks,
Left and right,
Just to get to you.
You’re out there,
On the grind now come home,
To your queen, boo.
Brooklyn move my soul like this,
Kissing my stilettos,
Move your mouth up to my lips.
Come on over ghetto baby.
(He say "Show me what you got girl").
Come on over ghetto baby.
("Drop it like it’s hot girl").
Brooklyn move my soul like this,
Kissing my stilettos,
Move your mouth up to my lips.
Come on over ghetto baby.
(He say "Show me what you got girl").
Come on over ghetto baby.
("Drop it like it’s hot girl").
We’re a match made in heaven,
If they’re gonna talk let ’em.
If they don’t think we’re good together,
Baby just forget ’em.
When he’s bad he’s bad.
But when he’s good no one’s better.
’Cause we’re a match made in heaven,
And this kind of love’s forever.
Brooklyn move my soul like this,
Kissing my stilettos,
Move your mouth up to my lips.
Come on over ghetto baby.
(He say "Show me what you got girl").
Come on over ghetto baby.
("Drop it like it’s hot girl").
Brooklyn move my soul like this,
Kissing my stilettos,
Move your mouth up to my lips.
Come on over ghetto baby.
(He say "Show me what you got girl").
Come on over ghetto baby.
("Drop it like it’s hot girl").
