Lyrics:
place
Work your way right into my face
First you try to bet me, you make my backbone slide
When you find you've bled me, slip on by, and
Stroke me,
and wide
Keep your contributions by your side and
Stroke me, stroke me
Could be a winner boy you move mighty well
Stroke me, stroke me (stroke
right into my face
First you try to bet me, you make my backbone slide
When you find you've bled me, slip on by, and
Stroke me, stroke me
Could be
right into my face
First you try to bet me, you make my backbone slide
When you find you've bled me, slip on by, and
Stroke me, stroke me
Could be
right into my face
First you try to bet me, you make my backbone slide
When you find you've bled me, slip on by, and
Stroke me, stroke me
Could be
way ... right into my case
First you try to beg me, you make my backbone slide
But when you find you bled me, skip on by
Keep on - stroke me, stroke me
she had been
Led straight into the DeKalb dressing room
Named for the street that bisects
A couple of local neighborhoods now
Populated by yuppies but
all need to plug into our Maker
Music by Peter Furler / Lyrics by Steve Taylor
©©2002 Dawn Treader Music (admin. by EMI Christian Music Publishing)
up)
Oh yep I gotta serious love for her
She can't be touched by any (Get your hands off)
On a perfect night
It's just me, her and Remy (Just me, her
the stroke
Only thing I know
You give me a stroke
When I stare into your heart
Grown a little smart
Wasn't from the start
But now that I know I just gotta
Baby, you my vibe (yeah)
Met her in the Floss, she from the Stuy
Told me where she from, it's do or die, she by my side
She a vibe, vibe
Can't get
your contributions by your side
Stroke me, stroke me
Could be a winner boy, you move quite well
Stroke me, stroke me
Say you're a winner, but man,
as an African, then I got hit with an American
Now motherfucker I hit a can, turned the world into Disneyland
Then I got scamed by the TSA, all they want is DNA
of a master
You never thought you'd be bodied by a bastard
A bachelor who backspin on breakbeats
Break necks of broke souls who hate me
Hate he? you can't
It couldn't hurt to come and vacuum
Before I sell off the house
Before I stop talking 'bout this and the story fades into black
Where's the remote
to listeners
Beautiful Music in Signature
Climb the quarter notes
Monkey bar the half notes
Slide on attached or detached 8th notes
Look into these whole note
a storm coming on and the rain is piling high but don't hide go outside
We're in a trance, sleepwalking by chance and back on melting ice to test our luck
write I belong
Let me break the fourth wall by acknowledging this song
Ren sits down
Has a stroke of genius
He wants to write a song that was not
Words and music by Woody Guthrie
While we're on the subject of hard work, I just wanted
To say that I always was a man to work.
I was born working
boat!
Written By: Joseph L. Stone Boogiedown Music BMI
nigga, move
Yeah, I feel like I'm Pablo
I feel like, I feel like Picasso
I feel like dancin' in the Louvre, check the brush strokes
Dancin' in the Louvre,
flight, nigga, move
Yeah, I feel like I'm Pablo
I feel like, I feel like Picasso
I feel like dancin' in the Louvre, check the brush strokes
Dancin' in
Kawasaki Green
Japanese made, white trash proud
250cc sounds real loud
Ride into the city or drive it in the sticks
I’m always doing wheelies when I pass by
Buchanan, respiratory failure was the key
Abe Lincoln, by an assassin's gunshot, R.I.P
It was a stroke that put Andrew Johnson into the ground
Ulysses Grant,
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