been born or if you can form Slap up a cop and then snatch 'I'm out of his uniform Leave him with' his socks, hard bottoms and bloomers on And hang him by his
around like the ice cream man I can hear you calling, whisper something in my ear You're sweet like sugar, tell me what I wanna hear I?m weak by your touch
re around like the ice cream man I can hear you calling, whisper something in my ear You seem like sugar, tell me what I wanna hear I?m weak by your touch
after dark I met him on the 6 train, just the way he said my name The brotha hada alot a game, and he open from the start He scoops me up in his ride
Ii Put Him Under Thought He Had A Zone Thought Ii Had To Leave So Ii Thought Ii Let Him Go Mine Stand Tough In The Middle Of Snow Storms His Only Worked
Grinding on his teeth as he heads out west With a pistol on his hip And a bullet in his chest The sun cracks its whip Sweat drips stings his eyes Reality
pot, he sticks me like shots Funky like farts, connect tongues like dots Lick his lollipop, this kid named Scott Me my hot self, my self be so hot Touch
Clown's watching from behind the curtain Little kids eating sweets and calling "Daddy ! " Mr Clown's feeling the same pain again His hands are wet, his
m tryin' to stay high while them niggas steady ballin' Two times for my G's that never come back Hopin' I can see you one time, when I touch back [Repeat
was instead of hatin you would be ballin too, I know you seen us ballin through, all the rich niggas is all my crew, Fuck it they can't touch us, if
to do My sisters and my brothers Tell me I should find another Everybody's talkin' my baby down Oh but they can't feel his touch They can't feel his
Tell him that the sun and moon Rise in his eyes Reach out to him And whisper Tender words so soft and sweet Hold him close to feel his heart beat Love
your place on the throne We?ve come together on this special day To sing our message loud and clear Looking back we?ve touched on sorrowful days
better life in L.A. Oh this loneliness I'm feeling Has got my body chilling I'm in need of your touch Won't you rescue my desire I long to feel your
street Talking about the 80's and who it will mistreat Now, Joseph Worken Hardy, checkin' out the jive Glancing at his pocketbook, inflation is alive