Paroles:
Traffic Blind Man

Blind man Standing on the corner Crying out the blues And I don't need a dollar And don't give me a dime Until you bring back that little girl of mine

(Malone/Scott) Blind man Standing on the corner Crying out the blues And I don't need a dollar And don't give me a dime Until you bring back that little

the goods. Line it on up, guarantee you get served. Lil' Chris, said run it, So I ran and told her. I'm a cash money young'n, Bird-man junior. Just a

shot you Don?t make dem spot you Unless you carry guns a lot too A pure tuff tings come at you When Trenchtown man stop laugh and block off traffic Den

ette runnin around New York like he the man But he peed in his pants When he saw us at Summer Jam Lucky I wasn't there I had to bury my man Or I would

I ran from my house that cannot contain me From the man that I cannot keep From my mother who haunts me, even though she's gone From my daughter that

It never rained, the Sun was always shining Every traffic light Was always green There was a time when Every door was open The universe was mine Or so

heights plains peaks or valleys Entrances exits vestibules and alleys Winding roads that test the firm nerve Fortune or fatal behind the blind curve

I ran from my house that cannot contain me From the man that I cannot keep From my mother who haunts me, even though she's gone From my daughter that