Lyrics:
for demons
So I get up in this booth and I'm heated
Like 'Ye said
I'm turnin' atheists into believers
I'm
[Chorus - B.o.B]
Make a lot of money
(Make
(1st non-groupie):
Tell him! Tell him right now!
(2nd non-groupie):
We only like musicians for f-friends. You know?
(voices in back):
Real straight
Caves for eyes,
With a cliff for a jaw
That would go up 'n down,
And whenever it did,
He'd puff out some dust,
And hack up a boulder
(HACK!)
Hack
112263
Lyrics and Music by Andrew Weiss
16 and a half centuries to go, and where it goes, nobody knows
I was punished for being born twice, and I
and vaudefillian famous
For singing "Swannee"
Written with words by Irving Ceasar
And music by Ira
Gershwin in 1919 became a big hit for
Jolson in 1920 and was
the ghost of you clings!
These foolish things remind me of you
©Copyright 1936 by Boosey & Co. Ltd.
Copyright Renewed
All Rights for U.S.A., Canada
You know the deal
Bob your head bob your head if you feel this
And this the real
Bob your head bob your head if you feel this
You know the deal
Bob
I need your body to move like a dancer
Don't ask me questions you don't want the answers
Soon I'll be charging promoters advances
Right now
Nicki Minaj's eyeliner is a
Precision event, a marvel
As if drawn on by the kind of
Pre-programmed robot arm used
For laparoscopic surgeries
It is
a dancer
A telephone that rings but who's to answer?
Oh, how the ghost of you clings
These foolish things remind me of you
How
ever slow down
These are the things
Done only by kings
Manifesting these feelings
Before I cut any strings
That are holding me down
An concealing my
like a Freaknik and you got the only brothers in town
I'm like a shoe-in, for the poster boy, the thug of the year
GQ style ma', let me put a bug in
like a Freaknik and you got the only brothers in town
I'm like a shoe-in, for the poster boy, the thug of the year
GQ style ma', let me put a bug in
only
Ever made me
Fight
Made me desperate
Separate
Apart
With a broken heart
Hurt
And tossed in the dirt
Thanks Bob
For releasing me
Thanks Bob
For
Tell 'em, tell 'em, we don't...we aren't groupies
Howard
Yeah
We only like musicians for friends
That's right
You, you know, you understand?
We still
the answer to all my prayers
I'm never lonely with my one and only because you know that you will always be there for me
You are my dancer
You are my dancer
somehow knew that this had to be
The winds of March that make my heart a dancer
A telephone that rings - but who's to answer?
Oh, how the ghost of you
In the county Tyrone, in the town of Dungannon
Where many a ruckus meself had a hand in
Bob Williamson lived there, a weaver by trade
And all
somehow knew that this had to be
The winds of March that make my heart a dancer
A telephone that rings but who's to answer
Oh, how the ghost of you
Tuck in agbada inside trouser oo
Them no dey tuck in agbada in side big palazor
Girl (come and whine for me dancer
Drop it low for me dancer
Girl
somehow knew that this had to be
The winds of march that make my heart a dancer
A telephone that rings, but who's to answer?
Oh, how the ghost of you
evidence for
If these things are what you mean by God
Then I believe in God but I
Don't believe in a personal
God to whom I look for comfort or for a
Natural
don't, you don't believe you can
Yet I've seen the love open like a dancer's fan
It's crazy, I know but my faith says so
It tells me
Am I a fool for
In the County Tyrone, near the town of Dungannon,
Where many the ructions meself had a hand in.
Bob Williamson lived, a weaver by trade,
And all
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