Nobody is talking about the hazy sky "Have the mountains gotten smaller? Or is the water getting high?" There's a light up on the hill, illuminating
drank myself into an idiot all through the night Recounting all my paranoid and selfish thoughts but I was right I made a space for you inside my soul And let my feelings
I hope someday that we can sit and talk above the surface For now I'm drowning in a sea of you The irony of alcohol and this conversation piece Is exactly
On a morning in November you were blinded by the sun In your place that makes you feel so safe from everyone You're totally oblivious to world poverty
absurd Take me for a ride and leave me somewhere I can live Without feeling everybody's sorrow I want to feel the numbness that surrounds most of our hearts To feel
Moving up the elevator to floor sixty-three A metaphor? Yes that is right I still cannot be free On the roof I start to realize I may not have a hope
one every year for five consecutive years. They were all named Padraic. So they all got one song. It's kind of like walking out a door to discover it's a window." "But a
'll call security Lily: Wa-Wait! No im sorry I was just looking for a souvenir my name is Lily Truscott and im a HUGE fan. [hannah sticks her face in
I push Miracle Whips [Chorus] "... last call for alcohol, for my niggaz" [Outro] So this A&R over at Rocafella, named Hiphop picked the Truth beat for
now, keep a place for me kid Ain't nuttin changed -- still _Party and Bullshit_ We used to +Fuck R&B Bitches+ and see who rhyme sickest For every hit
a [unverified] if my name was Teddy Bender Hot beats and hot rhymes tossed in a blenda' I want ch' all to feel hardcore, nothin' tenda' Blessed this mic for
, gimme an hour plus a pen and a pad Yo, I'm here to make a dollar out of fifteen cents And let my balls hang like I'm on a toilet takin' a shit My style
a faggot bashing off that hash and dro a mask and four four i need cash to go in a mist of war when its time for a nigga to die hes always the last to
hands now, keep a place for me kid Ain't nuttin' changed still, party and bullshit We used to fuck R&B bitches and see who rhyme sickest For every hit
looking for a harder crystal, I'm feeling for something smoother I'm listening for a starter pistol. three sheets to the wind and I'm using clouds for
'bout it's all good See I'm a G, [unverified] I got that 2 for 3 And y'all a know that I slang, that I C E And everybody in the ghetto use nicknames
and predictable gestures. Nouveau wankers. There's a thousand empty stages waiting for their empty performances, A thousand empty faces waiting for their
all good See I'm a g, ? ? ? ? ? I got that 2 for 3 And y'all a know that I slang, that i-c-e And everybody in the ghetto use nicknames Like v-90, master