hand Get a body bag cause mauh he's a dead man She was coolin' sportin' my table When the dance was done she like walked back to money's table I sat
Yeah, what's the deal? What's the deal y'all? I need y'all niggaz to buckle up one time Fasten your seat belts, I'm a take y'all on some real shit This
. Ruth my mind is strictly on the sex And style or position is my selection But I won't play without my contraception Like Ramsey's or Trojan's oh yes that's
Yo Jeff, what's up Holmes? Yo what's up Prince? Yo what's up man? Aey where's my car at? Where's your car, why you askin' me? No I parked my car right
on ice, on ice, on ice, Yeah) (Verse 1) You know me I turn them 40 bottles upside down like niggaz with dead homies till it's empty like my 4 pound.
that'll jump out raise the steel I live this way it's real dog no joke Blow smoke in ya bitch face piss in ya wheels Slap ya custies, clap your workers, dead
Willie John, Titus Turner, James McDougal) King Single #5219 Pop Chart #60 Aug 3, 1959 R&B Chart #13 Reissued as King #5452 Pop Chart #60 Jan 23, 1961
like a gun go and get a brillo pad fred is dead aw ain't it sad i didn't do it - that i wish guess who's next it's bob my fish
Written by Michael Bacon "Hey man, how great were the 60's?!" - "Well...uh..." MB Overweight 60's rock star, staring from the TV screen Begging
a Sarge you cant have me but we can have a menage(thats 3) now rub me wrong and fuck up my massage (ha) then it's flowers for da dead bedda give em
at, but tonight that's where they bleed at That belone her with the flame, throwin' their rain, it's over Prayed to Jehova, jiggaz up, the game's over
' here's a tag for the toll Ice cold AC butterscotch guts Hard top Benz with the roof popped up Every tooth rocked up N***a swangin' with the glock 9 60
was gon' leave the door open at Park the van around back, the M.P. jet black We should be in and out 60 seconds flat So son what's the deal? He ain't
long you'd been dead And it's one more for the rodeo, one more for the show One more pretender who just had to go All the Gods and guru's Blowing from
, everybody telling me They might get a lil money, but not more than me Like Roy Jones and Hopkins, ain't no 60-40 deal I'm getting 90 they get 10,
hours to live Seven thousand four hundred twenty-three grains Of sand drop from the hourglass It's how much time I got left on this planet Some motherfucker's
the girl shoulda known, you can't trust me She's only 98 pounds and lonely She calls to her God for help, and that's me COCAINE, go ahead n' use me, heh