day With me toorye oorye oorye-ay With me toorye-ay Foddle diddle day Me toorye oorye oorye-ay Mrs McGraw lived on the seashore For the length of seven
Foddle-diddle-day With me toorye oorye oorye-ay With me toorye-ay Foddle diddle day Me toorye oorye oorye-ay Mrs McGraw lived on the shore And after seven
stop, everybody hit the door someone's lickin shots off [Verse 3- Swifty] (Nigga I been tryna call you all day mothafucka where you at?) I'm on seven
to your high school, smoke the prom Put your brother in an air lock, choke your mom Cause any horror like a play off loss in game seven Walk around
the wide youth [Truth Enola:] Enola got soul To hell with role models, teachers and guardians With rock-hard erections, and seven incisions Raw intercourse
the mill Can we stay all night If you don't love us no one will I promise we won't cry London bridge is fallin' down My daddy's drunk again in town And
was drunk as a rule And fighting Bill Tracey from Dover And your man Mick McCann from the banks of the Bann Was the skipper of the Irish Rover We had sailed seven
almost here and there's Nowhere to hide Keep just time Nowhere to And sometimes helpings Don't get me drunk again And sometimes they'll come Don't give a fuck Seven
have you seen my mates Ma tell me when the boys get here It's seven o'clock and I want to rock Want to get a belly full of beer My old man's drunker
you know the tune Oh Lord, stuck in Lodi again I came in on a Greyhound I'll be walkin' out if I go I was just passin' through Must be seven months or
re seven drunken pirates We're the seven deadly sins We're seven drunken pirates We're the seven deadly sins We're seven drunken pirates We're the seven
bust a rhyme B, best believe when it's time to get it We grind and jet cause we ain't got time to kick it No S, for the drunk sexy women O, sippin' Jack
no shirt, fuck it, at least our arms are tatted we sloppy drunk disgusting, and liquor keep you wasted 285 eastside, me and aye wasted racing, seven
don't wasted, mix up, grandma drunk it Then taste it, now grandma sipping syrup Leaning wasted walking 'round fuck up Twisting her finga home gurl Slipped up drunk
with black books, Now that I got your undivided, you got a mic? You better hide it, I'm creepin' six deep with seven swords of drunk pirates With eye
feeling like "blaaagh" I wanna party like Bon Scott on Charlie, Bob Marley non-stop Chris Farley pissed, party on like the bombs dropped So if you're "drunk