Traduction: Drag-On. Informez vos amis.
who did I know your bitch, get at 'em Kiss [Chorus: x2] Tell your friends, I'ma tell your friends (my friends) We can be friends, on the weekends (be friends
I Could Tell By The Look In Your Eyes Something Was Moving The Wrong Way So Unfortunalty You Decided To Climb On The Back Of Your Mans Bike To Go On
Be friends, tell me where my niggaz at Be friends, tell me where my bitches at Be friends, tell me where my people at Be friends, tell me where my bitches
, The illusion of power. Powerful...who are you fooling? You're caught in a complex cataclysm of your own inadequacies And pitiful weaknesses Your souls secretes insecurity So you live on
my boots and shoes You can hang back or fight your best on the frontline Sing a little bit of these workingman's blues Well, I'm sailin' on back, ready
gather 'round friends And I'll tell you a tale Of when the red iron pits ran plenty. But the cardboard filled windows And old men on the benches Tell
So don't get attached, it'll attack every bone in your back Meet Zach, twenty-one years old After hangin out with some friends at a frat party, he gets
? WELL DID YOU CAUSE THIS MISERY? One girl shout: "Let the Bandit be!" BANDIT ARE YOU GUILTY? TELL ME, WHAT'S YOUR PLEA? Another girl shout; "Let fhe friend
like M & Ms, Call it Dre day, we celebratin', bitch bring a friend. Bottles on me, tell the waiter to order another round, And put that cheap-ass hypnotic down. (Put your
fresh coat of paint whose gonna sit through the night and just always act so quaint umne head eh yeahohhh yeah well uh its your new friend you're really
tell him, your abrasions are wrong and I DON'T KNOW WHICH IS LIFE! So sweety just pick up the pieces, the Christmas bakery YARON! They say calculating your friends and dragging
Violent J] Did ya ever burn your finger on somethin? hey Well picture this, your nuts burnin that way And a roman candle stickin' in your butthole That
to do If you think I'm sick take a look at yourself You got dead deer heads up on your shelf On your key chain is a little baby rabbit's hand I'm just
Come gather 'round friends And I'll tell you a tale Of when the red iron pits ran plenty. But the cardboard filled windows And old men on the benches Tell
