Good Friday by Wally Left Lyrics

Quote from the song “Good Friday” by Wally Left

Mags spinning like alpinas
Keep a clean rag in case I ever have to clean the frame off
I pull a hard right up on that boulevard
Coke white grips like i'm pushing hard
Fuck an ID. I'll slide the cops my rookie card
It's World Series Wally
Keep a girl with them curls with me
Probably on them handle bars, and granted she swirled with the caucasian
Probably why her mom's hate me, aw
I tried to lock her with the charm
But the way my halo's angled had her off safety
I'm sorry Ms. Jackson
I mean, she was clocking me at the party Ms. Jackson
I mean, i'm a good kid don't disregard me Ms. Jackson
Woah, woah, relax… no need for talks of Maury Ms. Jackson
Damn, you stressing me
This the Left side, Dre and Kendrick told y'all the recipe
Women, weed, weather
Lost angels earning their feathers it's heavenly
Heard that the pure hearted who spent life pleasantly
Get blessed with estates on top of the hills of Beverly
That's why I ride on this dino with the gold mags
I be steezin' in throwbacks
Cuz my God I was thrown back when the homie got his dome cracked
For flossing that new
I just take the game that he taught me and I toss it to you

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Credits, Cast & Crew of Song “Good Friday”

• Produced: Chuck Inglish
• Release Date: February 17, 2014

Perfect Lyrics of the Song “Good Friday” Released in 2014

[Favorite Song Lyrics: song “Good Friday” with perfect lyrics for karaoke]

[Verse 1: Wally Left]

Mags spinning like alpinas
Keep a clean rag in case I ever have to clean the frame off
I pull a hard right up on that boulevard
Coke white grips like i'm pushing hard
Fuck an ID. I'll slide the cops my rookie card
It's World Series Wally
Keep a girl with them curls with me
Probably on them handle bars, and granted she swirled with the caucasian
Probably why her mom's hate me, aw
I tried to lock her with the charm
But the way my halo's angled had her off safety
I'm sorry Ms. Jackson
I mean, she was clocking me at the party Ms. Jackson
I mean, i'm a good kid don't disregard me Ms. Jackson
Woah, woah, relax… no need for talks of Maury Ms. Jackson
Damn, you stressing me
This the Left side, Dre and Kendrick told y'all the recipe
Women, weed, weather
Lost angels earning their feathers it's heavenly
Heard that the pure hearted who spent life pleasantly
Get blessed with estates on top of the hills of Beverly
That's why I ride on this dino with the gold mags
I be steezin' in throwbacks
Cuz my God I was thrown back when the homie got his dome cracked
For flossing that new
I just take the game that he taught me and I toss it to you

[Chorus: Wally Left]

Oh god! Is this the way to go God?
I don't rep for much but this halo
Don't stress for much but this herringbone
Bearing my barren soul
Catch flame for playing it cool
You can't reach them gates from your stoop
Can you reach them gates from your stoop? NAH

[Verse 2]

This the lost land of the angels with mangled wings
Six fo's with a tank of dreams and thick hoes quick to scrape they knees
Pitch forks is prodding at pedestals
Knock you off to a block that's speckled with brimstone residue
No reps is respectable
It's either that or the narrow path
Paved with halos that flaked to ash
You can claim a state of grace o claim Stacy Dash
The later comes with a Jason mask, a love that will eventually taint for cash
And a vest fr them life or death games of laser tag
Lifts in this m.A.A.d. city? The fuck you mean? They lacing that
It's devils in tailored suits rocking bezels and reagan masks
See, niggas is either raising flags or raising eyebrows
Niggas is either taken aback or taken high, now
Angels is forgin halos for us to sport
All for aura and fashion
Who give a fuck though? We flourishing
You want the herringbones equipped with stares from hoes?
It's baritones in the packaging
Careful how ya pick ya curses bro
You can't come back from this

[Chorus]

[Verse 3]

Drag the halo down to the collar
Whipping an old school impala
It's pimps holla'ing at hoes
I'm twisting the knob on the radio I swear i'm disc jock in'
Stop it at Nothin' But a G Thang
"Live nigga, probably got your broad jockin' the slang"
That's the song that he sang
The tune that he rode to. I rock a gold chain never a gold tooth
I bump Dre and Snoop never heard of the son of Olu
It's like that
Plain Janes and Sheranes on my ding-a-ling
I'd never wife that
Sold my soul so i'm never checking price tags
Me and the homies is getting blowed like a fist full of dice at, casinos
Cutlasses, regals. Buck at yo team fo'
Not paying dues to them G.O.D.'s
Serving the deacons and striking deals with P.O.'s
Peace? The fuck is that?
We slanging pieces like hippies
Stashed in the back of the hoopty's a fucking mac
And AK, and whatever else, just so long as justice is dealt
Slid to the avenue felt
A couple of eyes hawking. Bird niggas in my peripheral
Finger twisting, acting egotistical
Pull yo card like a dentist that's plucking yo wisdom tooth
Only ignorance left in yo system
Act accordingly. Black back and forth. Unfotunately
*POP POP* and you fall over
Jaws drop the pavement with the force of suicide jumpers falling from top floors
You wake up at the golden gates
Angels confiscate yo halo and place you at Satan's doors
No complaints