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lirik lagu la parada – junior pandeka

[intro]
my boy; it’s lit!

[hook]
losing count of the bottles i’m about to go crazy
she got a blonde wig so i call her stacy
cooking in my outfit, looks so tasty
bought my mom roses & copped you daisies
if you’ve got back; you could be my baby
this lifestyle won’t save me
if you’ve got my back with some money in the bag
i could let you be my lady

[verse]
your new man? ba re ke stlaela
it’s looking o shota ka stayela
flowers & a sunset? baby that’s minor
we could chop a big mac on fine china
i call my middle eastern girl al qaeda
‘cause she bring war to my phone every night now
need a spanish girl so i call the pilot
two word text like “mamita; bailar!”
lemme switch thе flow one time for you
i nevеr let these boys know what i’m trynna do
sing a song to the girls like lionel
and then i eat it if she tastes like pineapples
she a old school chick with vinyls
i give her energy, she calling me dynamo
bedroom; had the girl saying “mayibabo!”
then she took me to her mama ‘cause i’m likeable
bring a bottle when i see your timer
then i promised i’ma cop you diamonds
in the presidential suite, joe biden
if anybody touch you i get violent
stacking old money, all my rands say kruger
i need a thick baddie who’s a lawyer, that’s crucial
i move like zuma, shooters in a cruiser
stroking that cat ‘cause your sweatpants puma
yea, when the bad chick bag say prada
sipping g&t at la parada
say you wanna get lit; baby let’s dala
then i kick the chef out like obama
baddie like mich*lle; but i’m not barack
she got vvs, put my drink on the rocks
“junior p, tell me you how made it to the top
when you rap harder than them, but you still went pop?”
i did it for the kids & i did it for the flock
uncle got a heater then he made the block hot
i was still sober when i took two shots
then i drank hennessy & now i’m feeling like pac
strap on my nike that’s bo jackson
knock it out the park, don’t test my passion
duck no smoke ‘cause i might just ash it
have your girl in my backyard doing backflips
that’s why i never trust these rappers
used to tell stories now we look like actors
no role modelz, everybody so sassy
can’t tell the difference from the real & the trappers
move too fake so i keep my distance
i call my dawgs the money militia
who got the cash & who got the pistols?
i’m like morant when they blow the whistle
do the griddy on your logo don’t hate me
but it’s a movie like martin scorsese
i need a baddie i can snack on daily
grade 3, tuck shop, ous’ macy
get an r&b wife like jay*z
then i shoot my shot like bailey
‘cause 300 cups might take me
back to the future, back to the ‘80s!
[hook]
losing count of the bottles i’m about to go crazy
she got a blonde wig so i call her stacy
cooking in my outfit, looks so tasty
bought my mom roses & copped you daisies
if you’ve got back; you could be my baby
this lifestyle won’t save me
if you’ve got my back with some money in the bag
i could let you be my lady

[outro]
(my boy; it’s lit!)
when the bad chick bag say prada
sipping g&t at la parada
when the bad chick bag say prada
sipping g&t at la parada
(my boy; it’s lit!)

- junior pandeka

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