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Sparks Fly Lyrics
    by Taylor Swift
    Bloody Mary Lyrics
    by Lady GaGa
    Paradise Lyrics
    by Coldplay
    Mirrors Lyrics
    by Bruno
Words and music by Roger Taylor
The machine of a dream
Such a clean machine
With the pistons a pumpin'
And the hub caps all gleam

When I'm
Buck & 50, I'm Ridin Shotgun with the Mac 11, this the Remix homie Stunt 1-8-7, before I lose my life, for that dime embezzled, I'll tint the window with
Mr. 305 checking in
(This the remix)
Kent Jones
Must feel good to have a worldwide hit, huh papito?
Welcome to the club
(We The Best Music
bitch when I begin to crowd around her
Then think to my thesis, caught up in a prefix
Music is premixed, the remix, with guns sounds
And gun rounds
All of my imagination
Even my self-preservation
Is yours in time

Music by Peter Furler / Lyrics by Peter Furler, Steve Taylor and Phil Joel
©©2002
Words and music by Roger Taylor
The machine of a dream
Such a clean machine
With the pistons a pumpin'
And the hub caps all gleam

When I'm
number anyway you were on the talcum
Powder, how's about them oranges
Moved away from home to school with big plans
By day, studied the history of music
By
yet.

If you haven't floated down the 'Ol Frio,
Heard Red Dirt music on your radio,
Eaten Cooper's down in Llano,
Then you ain't met My Texas yet.

You
yet.

If you haven't floated down the 'Ol Frio,
Heard Red Dirt music on your radio,
Eaten Cooper's down in Llano,
Then you ain't met My Texas yet.

You
psychoes, killers
Saw Divine, Goon and Chungo, Lil' Turkey
R.I.P. Tyrone, 'member no cursing front of Ms. Vercey
Big Percy, Crazy Paul, the Sledge Sisters
My
The world at my sneakers,
Gold pieces moulded with Jesus features, 
Give streets the fever from the way I spit the Ether,
Came on the scene at 19
psychoes, killers
Saw Divine, Goon and Chungo, Lil' Turkey
R.I.P. Tyrone, 'member no cursing front of Ms. Vercey
Big Percy, Crazy Paul, the Sledge Sisters
My
have a National Geographic a magic
With Taylor made status and plus favored is automatic

We're not balling
We take it back to the days of yes y'all-in'
Don't bring no dutchie back homie, I prefer papers, I prefer papers
And I got love for the Nets but it's still Lakers
I turn my music up, fuck my
(Silverstein/Taylor)

Stagolee he's a big bad man and he's gonna do you wrong
Now they say he shot his own sweet wife 'cause she cooked his eggs too
She's my baby girl and she relies on me
Loves me too much, won't hide from me
She knows it's shit, I've got too many flies on me
Got spies on me,
Them FreeBand niggas got all that money but BMG how we stamp them blocks
We remix bricks in Mexico you know we take a half off top
Jugg with my money
have a National Geographic a magic
With Taylor made status and plus favored is automatic

We're not balling
We take it back to the days of yes y'all-in'
She's my baby girl and she relies on me
Loves me too much, won't hide from me
She knows it's shit, I've got too many flies on me
Got spies on me,
Yo, see what I believe is, uh huh uh huh, 808 needs a remix

Oh Babe, is it true that your girl don't do the things I do?
Are you missin' this
have a National Geographic a magic
With Taylor made status and plus favored is automatic

We're not balling
We take it back to the days of yes y'all-in'
Called my nigga Kurupt, I knew it was boast
They hope a nigga in the music with this bomb
So I prepare load my arms
And wait, cause its the last time
music,
In and out I'm breathing it,
Close ones they miss me, 
They're really not feeling it,
I ain't seen my girl for days,
Ain't seen my bed for
the pavement
Looking for payment saying fuck enslavement
Usin the tools of old ancients
Announcing my engagment to this music that we making
Ain't no faking