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to himself and he cussed

He left Sacramento early that mornin'
With a sackful of mail for St. Joe
Had to outrun some outlaws outside Carson City
By
Diplomat Willie's, Millie Jackson chicks, dusted out Blondie
Slide me, we wrote the bowl, we take the magnets
Man handling mics, wool scarves, Evil Knievel
always be remembered as Kenesaw Mountain Landis 

Fellow named Joe Jackson was a fielder for the Black Sox 
And he always wore his black socks, but he
Richard Fagan/Joe Collins, Of Music, Inc (ASCAP/Life's A Pitch/Joe Collins Music (ASCAP)/Foray Music administered by EMI Music (SESAC)

Hey hoe come
Owww! 
Get on down [x3]

[Erick Sermon]
Well, it's the E wit the juice, I'm down to get loose 
Strapped in black wit the nine by the boots
'til they head get popped off
By the realest MC, and that's ME!
Joe Crack the Don, I came from the streets
Knee deep in the game, other half in
to handle

Sham 69 were left in a shambles
Generation X was next
Elvis and Nick Lowe
They had a go

With the help of the Attractions
And Joe Jackson
'til they head get popped off
By the realest MC, and that's ME!
Joe Crack the Don, I came from the streets
Knee deep in the game, other half in
the black steel 
And my friends make suggestions... 
That I should squeal to the cops but that's out of the question 
If I die by the trigger of a misled
woman
No, no, no, I won't be back at all
And that's the truth baby
Listen, I'm going, all right
Somebody told me, somebody told me
I'm Joe Jackson, I'm
woman
No, no, no, I won't be back at all
And that's the truth baby
Listen, I'm going, all right
Somebody told me, somebody told me
I'm Joe Jackson, I'm
Imma set the mood right yea you know I got it bad
Turn out the lights turn on that Betty Pinagrass
I'm kissing and touchin been missin ya lovin
I'm here
flat joe's and even the lingwood is all hood
For the Christ your all driving is all hood
The ghetto

Ghetto
Ghetto
I can't get out of here

I got
to the eastwike
Even flat Joe's and even the lingwood is all hood
For the Christ your all driving is all hood
The ghetto

Ghetto
Ghetto
I can't get out
Attention please, attention please,
This feel like the whole entire world collapsed

Uh, this that yellow tape shit
They keep running out of it
that I crafted
Open up a deadly venom style to be mastered
By a psychopathic, way beyond an average
Joe, with a hellafied flow, there ya have it

What's
soldiers
But thets the type of cal i live up and hold to
Like Joe Jackson, Lil Emmo
Randy,Sir Pat, God damn
They got bigger, the list go longer
I could
so let em feel 

Touch my private  my thing made of steel 

Shootin gizm  she ride like a Geo Prism 

I'm out in Cali  San Bernardino Valley
(after the song ends)
This is the CENTRAL SCRUTINIZER... As you can see, MUSIC can get you
pretty fucked up...Take a tip from Joe, do like he did,
Peace, this is Spike Lee
A.k.a. Shelton Jackson Lee
A.k.a. loving husband and father
Of Tonya and Satchel and Jackson
I'm here with De La Soul
to build a special runway just to get him down.
Before the Chieftains could start to play,
Seven creamy pints came out on a tray.
Shergar was ridden by
a pimple 
Yo', my job is done l'm outer here because Ya lifted 
Smoked out lyrics by a brother who's gifted
woman
No, no, no, I won't be back at all
And that's the truth baby
Listen, I'm going, all right
Somebody told me, somebody told me
I'm Joe Jackson, I'm
Life now, let me find out, you want the life style of mine 
no pal of mine 
Runnin' wit goons wit knife wounds from jail time 
Got the squad lookin'
I was once out cold at 15 years old
Rolled and sold, you, me, and Bo
Sittin' in Jackson infested with rats
With a silver gat tucked deep in my