Search results for by happy hour album the rat pack

We've found 67 lyrics, 69 artists, and 100 albums matching by happy hour album the rat pack:



behind
This ride is a scream
Happy hour turns hearts to dust

Watch out for love like Ipecac
A strange brew we're looking at
Watch out for love like
of the rest of the mice runnin' wit you
You pack gats then I'm fuckin' wit' you, But if you
live by the gun you gon die by the fuckin' pistol

[Chorus]
of the mice runnin' wit you
You pack gats then I'm wit you
But if you live by the gun, you gon' die by the pistol

If the D.A. ask me to tell, I'm like uh uh
on tea
And under the afghan we'll be, only be

The rats have all scurried, the streets are all bare
But tomorrow the hurried and worried and scared
Will be
albums.

Doug- Boy. So, like, that's our song, Merry Christmas...

Bob- Merry Christmas!

Doug- And good day!

Bob- Good day, everybody. Happy New
(yep)
My momma knew I was (was)
Everything I knew I was, I was destined for greatness
I knew I would be rescued by greatness (uh huh)
My first album
the world and Jimmy da earth out with Coat hangers
Rap game and street game don't sleep
Its a cold world better pack your own heat
Niggas ain't happy
He had his marketing plan worked up
He's gonna sell 'em all in big ol' jugs
He wouldn't package 'em in a 6 pack
He's gonna sell 'em by the pair
Rat Pack, get that shit tatted
Fuck with me on Snapchat
Talk shit and get clapped back
Only carry-on is my backpack
When I jetset like a war vet
Slick
Used to get 'em by the hundreds nigga, you can ask Slick
Bet Jeezy pack the dough homie just like Vick
You Know What It Is

I can't even lie
man I put hands on you, I dig a hole in the desert
They build The Sands on you, lay out blueprint plans on you
We Rat Pack niggaz, let Sam tap dance
build The Sands on you
Lay out blueprint plans on you
We Rat Pack niggas, let Sam tap dance on you
Then, I Sinatra shot ya God damn you
I put the boy in
Grown man I put hands on you
I dig a hole in the desert, they build The Sands on you
Lay out blueprint plans on you
We Rat Pack niggas, let Sam tap
jet contrails so long that

It can be seen in time zones eight hours apart by NORAD
Bow waves are made when I sweep my arms back
To fast track
Lincoln on a sack, with the fifty-dat
Bump my song, Get drunk, get it crunk
Country-fried, pack a blunt
Erything tight, Volume 2 off in the trunk, bump
that prey on Dwight Howard and Shaquille
Not them throwback rats they be on showin' on college hill
For real, I think my first album sold five mil'
the cartridge and start kickin' game like Acclam 
Those who you call Doggs rat your name 
Those who say they love you attack your change 
That's why I fold
a hammer than a nail

___________________________________________
*written by Bob Geldof
*taken from the album "The Happy Club"
of being a clown

Or an alley cat, or a dirty rat or a loud mouth brat
Well, I am all that, so if you ask me, why
I'm always in such a mess
Well, ha, I just
dude slangin' pack by the border
I love my life, I live it twice, 'cause it's up to me sorta
You a fool with a mental disorder, and it's probably your
float funny when you surfin' the water 
I'm that dude slangin' pack by the border 
I love my life, I live it twice, cause it's up to me sorta 
You
when you surfin' the water
I'm that dude slangin' pack by the border
I love my life, I live it twice, cause it's up to me sorta
You a fool with
with me
Had a ticket, cash that ticket, nigga go and get it
On twenty-four hour lock down without no cell mate
Playing chest all by myself, I got
at least penetrate you

For an hour, maybe three yeah
I can't go downtown much, all the working girl butts
Ya know they really make my woody happy
But
know, sneak it in with they friends at the job
Happy hour at the bar while this song is in they car
And even if they've never said it, lips stay sealed