Tekst:
Chris Young Burn

burn You burn like a beacon Burn like a porch light Burn like a blue star Burn like a bon fire Burn like a flicker in a red hot flame Burn like a match

you burn You burn like a beacon Burn like a porch light Burn like a blue star Burn like a bon fire Burn like a flicker in a red hot flame Burn like a

, gimme a second to get it back Young Chris, Neek, what? Oschino and Sparks Next summer's yo' summer, tear this motherfucker up Young is eternal, my young'uns'll burn

time, smoking, donuts while I'm spinning A tight haffa fullest engine with duels, and counts Fuck a spare tire in my trunk, it's boom, that slams 'cause I'm a young brotha like to burn

forget you put up in the cane, don't get caught up in the rain you see for death they arrest you cold blood caravans, disguise nigger guess who young

Young Money, syrup in the big shot Time to do the thing thats word to your wrist watch Shoot the glock till it burn till my wrist lock Rims hella big

I've done some public speaking I find now-a-days it's just best to keep quiet But uh, sometimes you just gotta let it out Young Angel and Young Lion You

Dirty South Hoggs What you know about, them young Outlawz What you know about, my gangsta crew ha What you know about, them Boyz N Blue nigga [Chris

The same as the Chevy platinum emblem on my keys Wit the diamond against the trim A young ass nigga wit a Louis V rim A sporty young shorty wit the Gucci