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Search results for 'out of my league by fitz the tantrums'

Yee yee! We've found 319 lyrics, 81 artists, and 100 albums matching out of my league by fitz the tantrums.


Albums:

Fitz and the Tantrums (Fitz & the Tantrums) · Trance League Express: A Trance Tribute to the Human League (Hutchinson, Hutch) · Major League: The Collectors' Ivy League (The Ivy League) · Major League: The Collectors' Ivy League (The Ivy League) · Tangos and Tantrums [#2] (Sylvie Lewis) · Bundle of Tantrums (Jasmine Thompson) · The First League out from Land (The Tossers) · Pure Prairie League/Bustin' Out (Pure Prairie League) · Out of My League (Billy Caldwell) · Out Of My League (Fitz & the Tantrums) – and 90 other albums »


Originally performed by The Anti Nowere League
Another bloody night
Another damned place
My head is fucked up
I've got another face
Too many bites
I
Fact:El-elevant,elegant and eloquent no shit
I boots hits,throw tantrums like Ella Fitz
Nah,the member X but you'll remember X indeedy
Now remember don't contest
[Storyteller]
Time was running out. The Dream League Force Troops, led by their powerful commander, have already entered the twin spirit land and, in
Robocop comin' through
Scientific Shabazz, my motherfuckin' man Wise the Civilized
The Shaolin Soldiers, Daddy-O and Popa Ron
Comin' down from
wit my style, is sort of like a Miracle 
On 34th Street, in the Square of Herald 
I gamed Ella, the bitch caught a Fitz like Gerald-
Ine Ferraro,
wit my style, is sort of like a Miracle 
On 34th Street, in the Square of Herald 
I gamed Ella, the bitch caught a Fitz like Gerald-
Ine Ferraro,
One thousand different houses and munchausen
I'mma make you wanna punch out some fuckin' one "ouch"
What the fuck'd you hit me for?
Scream life as I
One thousand different houses and munchausen
I'mma make you wanna punch out some f***in' one "ouch"
What the f***'d you hit me for?
Scream life as I
Pineal gland is swollen
Astral Planes I'm floatin', Goddammit, I'm free
I be GOD, please you are not in my league
Got the spirit of asata honor I be gavel
Acquaintances, relatives, the girls who never cared 
You'll have a host of rowdy hooligans in a big line out the door 
Side by side with Sister Barbara, Chief
Illtown, down the hill

[Chorus]

[Vin Rock] 
This goes out to the 118th Street Posse
My man J Scratch in the house, ya know what I'm saying?
And oh
It's where the evening ends 
In my bed I'm reading poetry 
No one knows what's come over me 
I close the book and turning out the light 
I hear
Bitch I'm ballin', bitch I'm ballin', racked up, no wallet
Keep a bad bitch in my team, I should join the league
NBA, never broke again, never going
shadow in the window 
You come into view 
I can't think, I can't speak 
Steal my heart from me 
You're out of my league 
I fall at your feet
someone who's out of his league
She takes me way too seriously

You'd think by now she would know
That I'm hardly deserving
My kind of love doesn't always
peasant, who is he?
Where and what his dwelling?
Sire, he lives a good league hence,
Underneath the mountain
Right against the forest fence
By Saint
party

verse 1
Top down, Hot sound
Cruisin' out on ocean drive
Crew is chillin' by my side
Sexy ladies passin' by

Verse 2
Cross walk, trash talk
Peepin'
is he?
Where and what his dwelling?

Sire, he lives a good league hence
Underneath the mountain
Right against the forest fence
By Saint Agnes's
peasant, who is he?
Where and what his dwelling?

Sire, he lives a good league hence
Underneath the mountain
Right against the forest fence
By Saint
Yonder peasant, who is he?
Where and what his dwelling?
Sire, he lives a good league hence,
Underneath the mountain,
Right against the forest fence
By
Yonder peasant, who is he, where and what his dwelling?
Sire, he lives a good league hence, underneath the mountain,
Right against the forest fence, by
get-away plan
Out master pla-an

Don't you want my love?
It's a cloud, it's a broken boat
But it might make you laugh a bit
Easier
I'm like the trees
peasant, who is he?
Where and what his dwelling?"
"Sire, he lives a good league hence
Underneath the mountain
Right against the forest fence
By Saint
stricken breathing
And a pulse conducted by our dying lines.

You said my heart sounded like a payphone in the rain.
Distorted, distant, scrambled
peasant, who is he?
Where and what his dwelling?
Sire, he lives a good league hence,
Underneath the mountain
Right against the forest fence
By Saint