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Search results for 'paint an 8 by the black crowes'

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Albums:

Black Crowes: Live in Moscow (The Black Crowes) · Soul Singin': The Best of the Black Crowes (The Black Crowes) · Roots of the Black Crowes (Hutchinson, Hutch) · Paint and Paint (Haircut 100) · The Lost Crowes (The Black Crowes) · The Lost Crowes (The Black Crowes) · Paint It Black: A Reggae Tribute to the Rolling Stones (Hutchinson, Hutch) · Paint It Black You Devil (Satan's Cheerleaders) · Paint the White House Black [EP] (George Clinton) · Paint It Black: The Compilation of the Rolling Stones Covers (Hutchinson, Hutch) – and 90 other albums »


I got an old V-8 from the year I was born
Don't look like much, just a flat black Ford
The engine's clean, I could paint it someday
But most
I will
That's right

Years went by and she hit eighteen
And left home for the art-school scene
To paint the people of the shadows and the faces unseen
wanna get him back
But I don't wanna do another custodial sentence
In a four-by-four pad
And I gotta take this time to apologize to my best friend
'Cause
Take it back, take it way back
Take it way way back to the first black man
Long ago before the white man could paint the black man with a gun in
Juggalos First (they do)
(Red and black skullcaps everywhere)
With tha fresh face paint and the Twiztid hair
(We find peace at the graveyard) We do
Me
Huh, make my motherfuckin' day
'Cause you'll be one dead motherfucker black
I'ma put you ass on you back
I won't play no games wit cha boy
You'll
"In this country a man's home is his castle"

I've been jacked by the racist scum, and here I come
Klan, run 'cause revenge is fun! And I'm that
school
N-ggas still be in and out of class
S class or the brand new cl5 on them haters
Black paint, chrome trim same color as the logo for the raiders
the G-55, Cavarolet
Oh by the way I'm (doin it way big)
Eight Alpine speakers, custom made H-are-E rims
(uh-huh, doin it way big)
The chinchilla blanket,
Bitch!
Brick city, yo
Yo, yo funk doc straight lunatic since young
I ate paint chips the rare moon
That pair mics, my maintenance
I battle you
Eight years now, you can call me a vet
That money you got, call that a forth of my neck
We don't call paint shiny, we call paint wet
A duro strawberry
(access)
I fuck wit' real niggas (niggas)
My baby- Beatrice (Trice)
Mack Dime (ah) uhhh see sold to shee (sheezy)

Eight-Ball (uh) Pimp see and Jayo
So many emcees focusin on black people extermination
We keep it balanced with that knowledge of self, determination
It's hot, we be blowin the spots,
of the Ghetto, this is my name
I be rollin' on swangers with candy black paint on 'em
If it rain, still ain't gon' get a stain on 'em
I'm from Texas, you can tell
Black chick white guy
Does it mean shit maybe
I don't know but yo it never phased me
But either way here's one tail

Of two like that and what
2
Ah yo yo
My, lyric is 8 ball
Batter up play ball
Fuck ya'll analog
Niggas we be digital, subliminal, come in
From the 5 star general
Attack you from
infinity?
I destroy that philosophy wit a eight
Now let's build, you rappers are no frills
I'm down by law, you sucka emcees sweatin' me for a funky fresh
these niggas ain't playing
20 inch. change the paint I'll do that quick
Doing donuts in the Lam get your roll on slick
Bought a brand new car 
Steering
mother's wake, smack you then I whack you with my snub trey-eight

I rub your face off the Earth and curse your family children
Like Amityville I drill
niggas playing basic ball
I'm on the block like I'm eight feet tall
Homey, I'm in the drop with the AC on
That's why the, streets embrace me dawg, I'm
Good evening!
This is your fucking captain speaking
We will soon be reaching an altitude of four million and a half feet
That's eight million miles
niggas playing basic ball
I'm on the block like I'm eight feet tall
Homey, I'm in the drop with the AC on
That's why the, streets embrace me dawg, I'm
basic ball
I'm on the block like I'm eight feet tall
Homey, I'm in the drop with the AC on
That's why the, streets embrace me dawg, I'm so cool!

Guess
get out, put my pedal to the flow and let's roll!

Yes, 7 cars, 8 cribs and ain't a damn thing changed
I'm still pumping 10 kickers, still gripping
you at your mother's wake
Smack you then I wack you with my snub trey-eight

I rub your face off the Earth and curse your family children
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