and I'm drivin Things are changing you don't seem the same as you were this time last year With the state line far behind your memories in my mind and I'm flyin
Traduction: Le Blue Dogs. Flyin '.
I never hang out, when we do we bust the four-five cause shells comin back at us while we jump in the ride Flyin, duckin, our bitches in the club cluckin
play the blues If it ain't been in a pawn shop, then it can't play the blues Now can it? I guess we can all play the blues
in cages Let loose and bit the neighbors, wrist to razors Y'all don't want war, y'all want talk In the dark my dogs all bark like woof Proof nigga I
air, there go Game, nigga where? Posted on the block in them black Airs, In that all black Phantom, hug the block like a bear, Yeah, that V12 is roarin', Flyin
We got many psychopathic ninjas on this track Choppin off wigs like a flyin guillotine attack Jumpsteady, a shocker, rockin the blue blockers A Bruce
' You can't feed a nigga peanut chews Now, put ya feet up in a nigga shoes A lack of green a give a nigga blues A sip of purple make nigga rude Make
start to scatter like a mouse snatch the fuckin', yeah And I'm out to my nigga Boom Bam's house, uhh I guess you can chalk up zero for the blue team
saw in m' life That old ship sinkin' down in the water, Six thousand people tryin' t' kill each other, Dogs a-barkin', cats a-meowin', Women screamin', fists a-flyin
hang out, when we do we bust the four-five 'Cause shells comin' back at us while we jump in the ride Flyin', duckin', our bitches in the club cluckin
a mason jar I rattle around this house I can't wait till my baby's rollin in When she arrives our love will rise Up above the clouds Flyin high and
a dream that i was flyin' through the skyline of the city and i could see all the buildings and the nameless people there and so it seems as i'm flyin
Uh, uh, uh, Dirty Cash Uh, uh, uh, Drty Cash Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh Uh, Blue Angels, Blue Angels, Blue Angels Yo, yo, yo, yo, it's the ghetto diplo',
dog, and having rabid fits Green fly soup in on the way from the kitchen, troop Looking at TB, tuberculous on the window post Ten dead dogs, a brown
My friend Blue he runs the show With hot pink purple china glow His family trees are molded No longer grows in summer He holds it closer lets it go Picks