Lyrics:
cry no more
Wonders what his heart is beating for
Says he takes it much too hard
Give my regards to B.J.
In a fit of rage he tore down all her
She don't call me Tunechi no more, she call me bae
Oh I, don't give a fuck about these niggas all in my face
'Cause I'm in the club goin' up,
home alive
She warned against his loss of sleep and driving fast in that old heap
And that he had to be at work by five.
BJ the DJ you're living
in that critical moment
My beats could make more millionaires then that game show
When you see my logo you know i came to flame throw
Used
of the album go to the Teenage Cancer Trust to support families like Thomas' through difficult times
Thank you for supporting us, the charity and Thomas
We hope
home alive
She warned against his loss of sleep and driving fast in that old heap
And that he had to be at work by five.
BJ the DJ you're living
(BJ on the beat, boy)
Why the temperature say eighty degrees and I'm the only one fucking cold in here?
Maybe 'cause you're the only one with all
on go I'm tryna knock
By Myself don't need a team
See more than one I spray the block
Spray the block yuhhh, Spray the block
Blame it on the Judge
ODM BJ
home alive
She warned against his loss of sleep and driving fast in that old heap
And that he had to be at work by five.
BJ the DJ you're living
can make it to the mix and the master
Love a B side love a J side
Love a BJ side
With a side of fries
Extra mayo that's my
Favorite condiment
You can
home alive
She warned against his loss of sleep
And driving fast in that old heap
And that he had to be at work by five
B.J. the D.J. you're living much
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, as if I were their own son. Their two daughters, Yvette and Helen, are more like my younger sisters than cousins. When you are part
A FINE WAY TO GO
WRITERS CAROLE KING, TONI STERN
RECORDED BY B.J. THOMAS
He makes love to her every night
And you know this ain't no lie
She makes
at least a grand
Gold on my neck, my pistols close at hand
I'm a self-made monster of the city streets
Remotely controlled by hard hip-hop beats
But just
Lately by your grave I sit and wait
Waiting for that very special day
That you pass away
When you die
When the spark leaves your eye
When your eye leaves
Hello, Thomas, I see that you're depressed, what's the problem?
Is it the skeletons you're hiding deep inside your closet?
Have you been reading
to keep my fam tight even if we don't hang out no more
Ya still my man aiight, see money changes many things
You go from just gettn' by to shopping
an accident
This is a fuck you, from all the people
Oppressed for being “different”
It should be peace not blood flooding these streets (Ooh)
Look at all those
how're you gonna get your debt plan through
I guess I'm gonna fin'ly have to listen to you
Really
Talk less, smile more
Ha
Do whatever it
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DOUBTIN' THOMAS
from THE PRAYER DRONE. by B.Slade
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kiss
And stand tall when err'body else is shook like this
Cause you refuse to let us get our pride took by this
You embrace us cause we look like this
(do you want more?)
Hell yeah, now check the method
I been livin' outside of pages for ages
Now I'm back, Chocolate City, home of percussion,
at the clouds
And rain fell softly on your face
The memories of our time together cannot be replaced
I never loved you more than on those happy autumn days
Fifteen, she's underage, that's raw
And against law 5 years or more
And she wants a score and half of a draw
That's the kind of friend that you try
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