Is he the black messiah is he another four years of bush I hate wasting time talking about politicians But is there any other way Johnny lost his home
It's been a while since I've tried to write a song about a girl so here it goes I write with clumsy words I see the sparks that fly are reasons to consider
What was I thinking All of theses years gone by yet I still try for nothing Where do we go Where is the scene we all believed in I'm trying to remember
nine, thirty ... Bjork : Thirty one, thirty five, thirty eight, fourty two, Fourty eight, fifty one, fifty four, fifty eight Sixty four, sixty eight
set new trends, Black .., black .., but I have ?b*tches ..fourty five ..I let my shorty .. ..seven fifty, seven ..I set new trends, ?cuz we set new trends, I brought my ?just twenty eleven
reaper with a bowling ball, Metallica, kill em all, let god scold em all, The Guildford four, chicago seven, Mumia, mandela, oceans eleven, Half past
snitches in rap Pure euphoria, a dose of death to all of ya Coroner choruses, some from the Bridge to Astoria Dreams of fallin' in a elevator passin
wanna know voodoo A fat bitch named Bridget and a little sip of Faygo too 'Til I get my shit, in this mothafucka I will never die So anyway, fifty years
, stop it Whether plugged in or plugged out Iron drill mugged or thugged out Blood in or blood out, son was bugged out Might look at you and slice you Buck fifty
Maalox and Castor oil of toxic waste Your area's vacant with where house aroma Cat turds and horse drops your face went into a coma Exterminating houses, with fifty
, 45.'s Six, seven, eight, nine milli-meter Ten, eleven, twelve gauge pump nigga One, two, three, 45.'s Six, seven, eight, nine milli-meter Ten, eleven
front row, I ain't watchin' the fight I be in Street Port wit' my nigga, Bayday I be in airports wit' my fuckin' AK Four seven to eleven, one eight seven
paged me Wanna know if b-legit can kick it tonight Only sixteen, way too tight But age ain't nothin' but a number Baby got her hair done by shanda Nine nine ten, eleven
, word up, as we splash you like this Walk wit a didi bop ock, you silly pop, Jiffy Pop Fuck around son, I'll blow ya face up with fifty shots Sharp
way Take that night train to Memphis Take that night train to Memphis You know how I'm longing to see you Leave at three-fifty-seven And arrive at eleven
-yard Where mega-hard arms swingin' metal palms iron skin leopard Holding evil metal eagle attach the desert, paranoid fingertips Stitched with three-fifty plus seven
