Glory — Lil Wayne: letras e videoclipes das músicas e shows

Glory

47.125

Em turnê

Hip-Hop/Rap

Glory foi lançado em 4 de julho de 2015 por Young Money Records, Inc. como parte do álbum FWA

Informações da música

ÁlbumFWA

Data de lançamento4 de julho de 2015

SeloYoung Money Records, Inc.

LanguageEnglish

Melodicidade

Acusticidade

Valence

Dançabilidade

Energia

BPM78

RESUMO

LETRA

Créditos

INTERPRETAÇÃO

Lil Wayne

Vocais

COMPOSIÇÃO E LETRA

Avery Chambliss

Avery Chambliss

Composição

Marco Rodriguez-Diaz

Marco Rodriguez-Diaz

Composição

Angel Aponte

Composição

Dwayne Michael Carter, Jr.

Dwayne Michael Carter, Jr.

Composição

PRODUÇÃO E ENGENHARIA

Avenue

Produção

Infamous

Produção

ONHEL

Produção

Fabian Marasciullo

Fabian Marasciullo

Engenharia (mixagem)

Thomas McLaren

Engenharia de mixagem (assistente)

Colin Leonard

Engenharia (masterização)

Letra

Woo, this that shit they didn't want me on

I'm 'bout to act a badonkadonk, shamone, shamone

Don't need sugar, I need cream, I'm dark and strong

The garbage man puttin' on cologne, aroma wrong

I'm on, I'm on, this that shit they didn't want

I act a ass and shit a skunk, I will, I won't

Black your eye like will.i.am, you Willy Wonka

That's me in the Lam', I'm disappearin' like Jimmy Hoffa

AK-47 my business partner, business is swell

French kiss a bitch, she don't speak French, can't kiss and tell

I push his ass in the wishin' well, then wish him well

Sippin' syrup like ginger ale, but I'm the quickest snail

From here to Hell, I hear them hail, I give 'em hell

I'm spittin' hail, I'm Clinton, well, I did inhale

These **** frail, they Chip and Dale, they little gals

Watch me act a donkey, then pin a tail, spit out your nails

Uh, glory, hallelujah

Holy shit, I'm the holy shit, I'm God's manure

I know how to hack a jeweler ward and not computers

I meditate like a Buddhist, Holy ramen noodles

And now you sleep, I'm inside your room wit' a lot a of shooters

You wake up to this chopper tool, it's like, "Cock-a-doodle"

I'm awkward, cuckoo, I turn your Froot Loop to chocolate Yoo-Hoo

I'm hotter than Honolulu, glory unto you, glory

I'm awkward, cuckoo, I turn your Froot Loop to chocolate Yoo-Hoo

I'm hotter than Honolulu, my clothes and socks and shoes new

I been a boo-boo since ga-ga goo-goo and Dada, FUBU

Make everybody that knew you boo-hoo, I got them spooked too

I drive in neutral, shock the future like Dr. Luther

I'm not a chooser, your mom a cougar, I'll sock it to her

My cocaine white as a white beluga, I like bazookas

I'm high as lunar, I'm wilder than tigers, Nikes, Pumas

Woo, this that shit you didn't want me on

My weed louder than underarms and car alarms

Cheers, I said, "Surprise", but couldn't party long

I got to get back to the grind and the drawin' board

But all this fuckin' artist drawin' is the art of war

These ****' soft as teddy bears, talk to Marky Mark

I wet your block, leave it a waterpark, broad or dark

I whip the work like tartar sauce, you want it hard or raw, huh?

Uh, glory, hallelujah

Holy shit, I'm the shit, porta-potty Tunechi

Unload the Glock profusely, when sortin' out confusion

Your motor mouth keep vroomin', I'm goin' Tony Stewart

I'm on the fluid, I'm ruined, I'm cold as Boston Bruins

Lost in the shoo-shoo and who's who, and I lost influence

Lost my point of view till I find a mirror, start talkin' to it

It told me the truth, it said, "I'm the shit and you party poopin'"

Lord, oh, lord

Am I talkin' crazy? Too much coffee, maybe

I smell like money, I know broke **** feel nauseated

The broads' elated, my boys are faded, my car's the latest

My bars the greatest, they rated X like Marvel made it

She caught the babies, she barfed the babies, they orphans maybe

We got that white girl like in the 80's, that Marcia Brady

I dicked Tracy like Warren Beatty, I'm warm as Haiti

I'm armed and lazy, I'm sprayin' until my arms is lazy

Pardon my mental, I'm higher than Continental

Went from flyin' cockroaches to flyin' without credentials

That's private, tell the pilot, "Be quiet, we need our privacy"

Throw you off this bitch if you wired, justifiably

Hustle wit' a motive, you know this, I'm wit' my whoadies

No snakes, no rodents, no ad-libs, no chorus

No stress, no worries, hook you to a respiratory

It's self-explanatory, the glory is mandatory, glory

Uh, glory, hallelujah

Holy shit, I can't hold this shit, my bowels looser

My towels newer, my powder room is for powder-users

You see rolled up dollar bills filled wit' snot and mucus

My tires Lucas, my driver's cruisin', my partner's ruthless

My flower's rootless, my pocket's roofless, she poppin' roofies

I'm not a student, I'm not assumin', I'm not a human

You are not immune to this kind of music, you got 'em, Tunechi

Got 'em, Tunechi, I got 'em

Written by: Angel Aponte, Avery Chambliss, Lil Wayne, Marco Rodriguez-Diaz

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