's on daniel's, toody's on bliss It's all I ever wanted, the best it ever gets My head's a little scattered 'cause I'm working on the dead line There
Gimme Mine If A Nigga Say I Ain't The Top Five Dead Or Alive Remove His Head From His Spine I Load The Lead In The Nine Leave Him Dead On Arrival Ya
Yeah.. ballad of a dead soldier This is the ballad of a dead soldier This is the ballad of a dead soldier Come play the ballad of a dead soldier.. [2
cross the moon like E.T. Spider-Man with a scope, aim at you through my web site Though I was gonna shoot you? You was dead right [Scratching:] "Step
what it's about But I'll see him in anything so I'll stand in line. Brownsville girl with your Brownsville curls, teeth like pearls shining like the moon
since June, Tree trunks uprooted, 'neath the high crescent moon Feel the pulse and vibration and the rumbling force Somebody is out there beating the dead
's mute If you burned them all together you'd get close to the truth still They're pouring over Sanskrit on the Ivy League moons While shadows lengthen
Now gather round y'all here comes a sight to see Me and Menta are come and kill 'em consecutively I walk through the door I don't even look at the line
rain moon and stars Intergalatical metaphors from Mars! Raw to the floor, raw like Reservoir Dogs Bite another line from Redman's song! Suddenly the stub from a dead
say that when the moon is full and all the stars have gone to bed You can see her ghost but that?s a lie because the naughty woman isn?t dead She deserted
alarms, we were dead from the start. It's a never ending system, Break me down, tear me apart. Don't be fooled, I was raised by the Wolves. Now the moon
by one they drop down dead, two hundred men She...she, Life in Death. She lets him live, her chosen one. "One after one by the star dogged moon, too
one They drop down dead, two hundred men She...She Life in Death. She lets him live, her chosen one. [Narrative] "One after one by the star dogged moon
s take a trip down.. I gotcha Let's take a trip down memory, lane at the cemetary Rain grey skies, seems at the end of every young black life is this line
there since June. Tree trunks uprooted in the high crescent moon. Hear the pulse and vibration and rumbling force. Somebody's out there beating on a dead
(You don't really know him, why is you lyin) Yo Kwe, she don't believe me, please pickup the line She gon' think that I'm lyin, just spit a couple of lines
