You're bringing me back to life You're bringing me back to life You're bringing me back to life You're bringing me back to life You're bringing me back
, red rose Or the running brook Where the sweet magnolia grows I won't tell of my love To every little star Or the whippoorwill On the hill above I'll tell the man
the men in the street That Willy is a cheat Who'd rob us if we let him. [General] Hear! Hear! [Harry] I'll shout it out from the roof He's married with a
gone be my man 'til the planet has blown up She's my Venus, galaxy's can't get in between us We're Adam and Eve with a remix I'd get he a star from heaven
mythological, They couldn't comprehend when I brought the word, A stick called verb, a black steel nerve, Teachin' those actors and actresses, Who write a
angels? song. REPEAT CHORUS Could we with ink the ocean fill, And were the skies of parchment made, Were every stalk on earth a quill, And every man a
If he can't grasp a hold tell me how can he try to snatch me I ain't talking about the white man, the black man or a Jew man 'Cause the devil can exist
It was a normal day. Well, I rung the fallout shelter bell And I leaned my head and I gave a yell, "Give me a string bean, I'm a hungry man." A shotgun
your, lane but you wanna be a star A star, do you wanna be a star? Can't find your, lane but you wanna be, wanna be a star [Krayzie Bone] I know the
(feat. Yolanda Adams) [Krayzie:] Jeremiah 10: 23,24 "We will know oh LORD that to Earthly men his way does not belong, it does not belong to man who
get chased by space aliens A brainiac, with a cranium packed, full of more uranium than a maniac Saudi Arabian A highly combustible head, spazmatic strapped to a
get chased by space aliens A braniac with a cranium packed full of more uranium than a maniac Saudi Arabian A highly cumbustible head, spasmatic strapped to a
you carry your son Call your house and hang up on you for not givin' me none Born straight up out a pussy but a son of a gun Got a reputation for havin
you're son call you house and hang up on you for not givin' me none born straight up out a pussy but a son of a gun got a reputation for havin' niggas
, slick talker, walk like a brick flipper, Decimal doctor, multiply to get richer, I'm a entrepreneur, I'm the heart of the city, I'm a part of the sewers
't a hit. Maybe I'm approaching it wrong. Look at him, a musician, a natural musician. This Motorcity was a serious little boy. Liked to pull down the
the night before he died. He said, "One world must come out of World War Two" (ah, the fool) "Yankee, Russian, white or tan," he said, "A man is still a man
