Lyrics:
hooka smokes
She gives me headdaches man
And when my sack gets low
Sweet Mary swings on by
Breaks me off something proper
?That bowl king sized swagger?
headdaches man
And when my sack gets low
Sweet Mary swings on by
Breaks me off something proper
That woman keeps me ???
That's why I'm lying
I ain't
tattoo
The last permanent mark of a fading youth
From a whim back when we'd skip class
On Tuesday nights
I used to take her home the long way
We would pull
What else?
Anything Else?
Mary! Mary!
Mary! Mary! Mary!
Saw Red!
Mary!
Slow Ride!
Fuck!
You don't even realize
How long it's been sinse
I played
A dream caused panic in the middle of the night
An angel surrounded by a brilliant light
Speaking to the carpenter
Whose face was pale with fright
mother's side, I am the grandson of William Bullock and Mary “Mamie” Elizabeth Thomas. I don't have the full lineage on my Father's Mack side, but I'm
turned to gastric jelly yeah
Man it's been a long time coming
And a long way still to get to on high summit
We will saddle up a slingshot on a wishbone
Both fucked the same bitch, just not the same night
You just took her phone number
I just took her home with a-
'Nother bitch, menage
Boomerang,
grabbed her by the arm and I asked her name
She said it was Nina and her man's in Santa Rita
I took her to my home and homeboy, I geed her
Set her
takes the long way home
And Lady Mary's all alone
Freddy Jar, he didn't mind
He went along just to be kind
Lady Mary took his hand
And Freddy Jar was
The tales that I tell so well
I met this girl, her name was Joan
She loved the way I rocked the microphone
When I met Joan, I took her home
She was just
her by the arm and I asked her name
She said it was Nina and her man's in Santa Rita
I took her to my home and homeboy, I geed her
Set her on the way
that. My father kept the radio on Christmas music all season long, and we would trade the eighties, pop hits for the Carpenters, Nat King Cole and Bing
tell so well
I met this girl, her name was Joan
She loved the way I rocked the ON microphone
When I met Joan, I took her home
She was just like
tell so well
I met this girl, her name was Joan
She loved the way I rocked the ON microphone
When I met Joan, I took her home
She was just like
fitting in its way
He was a carpenter by trade
Or at least that's what I'm told
Like my good hand
Tattooed E-V-I-L all across his brother's fist
fitting in its way
He was a carpenter by trade
Or at least that's what I'm told
Like my good hand
Tattooed E-V-I-L all across his brother's fist
to live by
They painted every passion, every home, created every beautiful child
In the winter they were weavers of warmth,
In the summer they were
It was a fine day in the fifth grade
When mary may let bobby walk her home from school
He had her books in hand
And he was listening to every word
It was a fine day in the fifth grade
When Mary May let bobby walk her home from school
He had her books in hand
And he was listening to every
was born into a manger
And like some ragged stranger
Died upon the cross
And might I say it seems so fitting in its way
He was a carpenter by trade
are created
equal.
That they are endowed by their creator with certain inalienable
rights.
That among these rights are Life, Yes sir!, Liberty,
night but home I never saw
He kept beside me all the while resolved to have his will
And by and by we lost our way, at the back of Rare's Hill
For when
Rendevou the long way home
I left the start cah theres no way home
Time running out there's no way home
Tings on my mind places to go
Rendevou Rendevou
I
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