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Search results for 'out of my head acoustic by theory of a deadman'

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Albums:

Theory of a Deadman (Theory of a Deadman) · Theory of a Deadman [Bonus Track] (Theory of a Deadman) · Theory of a Deadman (Theory of a Deadman) · Theory of a Deadman (Theory of a Deadman) · Theory of a Deadman [Clean] (Theory of a Deadman) · Head to Head (Jonathan Butler) · Head to Head (Jerry Weldon) · Head to Head (Jonathan Butler) · Body Head Bangerz, Vol. 1 [Body Head] (Body Head Bangerz) · Head to Head (John Allred) – and 90 other albums »


me
Hang by their Ts rated PG in sight
I ain't sellin my soul when there's nothin to buy
I'm livid in my space
Pissing in my face
Fuck you while
me
Hang by their Ts rated PG in sight
I ain't sellin my soul when there's nothin to buy
I'm livid in my space
Pissing in my face
Fuck you while
you can’t afford to pay attention
Catch me downtown by L.E.S.
Or up in Flatbush, Fort Green by dys, who you be with
My niggas I was locked up
the '99
What, yeah, uh huh, yeah, bangin on you, huh
It's the big bang theory, yeah, check it out, bring it, yo

I got a big bang theory my hardcore
[Barron Ricks] 
My flows most beneficent  most merciful  outrageous 
For wages  vibrate niggas heads like pagers 
Too hard to handle son  we
And the Earth feels closer to heaven
Just because you're here
I've been chased by angels
I've been drunk out of my mind
And the Earth feels better than heaven
Proven in theory your heart can be lost by the brain.
Staring hard the devil is just out of frame.
Mother where are you?
I love you I'm right
I lost my innocence
Over intolerance
All the indignities
Heaped on the black man
We went to church
They all prayed for the white man
The cops
Broken pieces
Left with out feeling, again
And it won't be the last time
Much broken theory
As love's legs run weary
Over empty space
yo ass
Some slow and analytical
Some quick fast on the dash
Like heads or tails but the head usually leads the tail
So I tell my tales from the head
where that came from?
I would like to put forth my theory, my own inside story, if you will,
You wanted to know what I think?
I think that every morning
And sometimes for breakfast I eat grits and porgies
If this is a stinker, then call me a stink, I ask
"What? What? What?" now check it out

All my peoples in
And sometimes for breakfast I eat grits and porgies
If this is a stinker, then call me a stink, I ask
"What? What? What?" now check it out

All my peoples in
towards the sun and
They keep shunnin', but I bow my head to The One and
I can't lie, so you for it, I want to fly
Up to the heavenly hills where love
towards the sun and
They keep shunnin', but I bow my head to The One and
I can't lie, so you for it, I want to fly
Up to the heavenly hills where love
a dragon wit the head of a lion, jaws be like saws grindin
Claws rip through walls of cast iron
I slap fire outta hoodlum, pull out steel and start shootin
Boogie Down Productions attempts to prove somethin'
I say hypothetical because it's only theory
My theory, so take a minute now to hear me

So what's
to Coney Island to try out some of Andy's theories on cutting-edge comedy.
We'd stand around the â??test your strengthâ?? games, the one with the big
feel cra-zy

(Tell 'em bout it)

Last year was a hard one, but life goes on
Hold my head against the wall learnin' right from wrong
They say my
you wanted extra cheese, sometimes I gave you extras
How we divided slices like the Red Sea theory
I was Moses hopelessly scorned by your thorn zapora
theory
I was Moses hopelessly scorned by your thorn zapora
Tried to bring that fairy-tale life, you wanted horror
But my microscope couldn't see or cope
of yall
and if ya Immature than Im out the door
I'm on fire gettin head by the
Harlem Boys Choir.

Dreams, dreams, dreams of fucking an R & B dick
(dreams
like
Boom bat bam - hot damn

This has got guts like the rush in the surfer's head
When he's out there starin down a perfect set
The dreams extreme
to the point of reversing gravity
Revolutionary conceptuality spitting out of me
Even the dead people in my family tell me they proud of me
Stupidity's not
of yall
and if ya Immature than Im out the door
I'm on fire gettin head by the
Harlem Boys Choir.

Dreams, dreams, dreams of fucking an R & B dick
(dreams