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Search results for 'tv talkin song by bob dylan'

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Albums:

Freewheelin' Bob Dylan/Times They Are A-Changin'/Another Side of Bob Dylan (Bob Dylan) · Pure Dylan: An Intimate Look at Bob Dylan (Bob Dylan) · Bob Dylan's Country Selection: Original Versions Of The Songs Dylan Covered (Hutchinson, Hutch) · A Nod to Bob: An Artists' Tribute to Bob Dylan on His 60th Birthday (Eliza Gilkyson) · Is It Rolling Bob? A Reggae Tribute to Bob Dylan (Hutchinson, Hutch) · Is It Rolling Bob? A Reggae Tribute to Bob Dylan [DualDisc] (Hutchinson, Hutch) · The Songs of Bob Dylan, Vol. 2: May Your Song Always Be Sung [Australian Edition] (Hutchinson, Hutch) · Songs of Bob Dylan: May Your Song Always Be Sung (Hutchinson, Hutch) · The Songs of Bob Dylan, Vol. 2: May Your Song Always Be Sung (Hutchinson, Hutch) · May Your Song Always Be Sung: The Songs of Bob Dylan (Bob Dylan) – and 90 other albums »


Last week, uh, in Nashville, Bob Dylan, one of the top writers
Well, I don't need to tell you who Bob Dylan is
The greatest writer of our time was
headphones on
She hears the music blasting
She sees here brother marchin' by
Their bond is everlasting
Listening to Bob Dylan singin'
In 1963
Watchin'
Man, those were the days (those were the days)
We listened to the songs Bob Dylan wrote
We sat there stoned and amazed
We forgot to eat, we forgot
to Bob Dylan
Chillin'em, thrillin'em, and red hot killin'em

Said killin'em
Come on, come on killin'em

Get sick, get well, hand around a ink well
to Bob Dylan
Chillin'em, thrillin'em, and red hot killin'em

Said killin'em
Come on, come on killin'em

Get sick, get well, hand around a ink well
until I touched your body
Imagine a world without John Lennon, the rain and the wind without Bob Dylan
Blue without Joni, blue without Miles
But every
Bob Dylan
Ever comtemplating, the charges I'm facing
My new-born son, I hope I see his graduation
Take him to the movies, by the cemetary
If my
Napoleon murphy brock (vocals)
Bob harris (vocals)
Johnny "guitar" watson (vocals)

Thing-fish:(contd.)
Thass right, folks! we talkin' de hypocritical
to think I'm a villain
I'm just chillin', like Bob Dylan
Yeah I smoke cheeba, it helps me with my brain
I might be a little dusted but I'm not insane
People
like a hippie in the sixties, Pop's chillin
Headin' to The Village to see Bob Dylan, when he was top billin'
But Perry was not feelin' complete, he had
Yeah, yeah, you know how me and you do

[Verse 1]
Real People walk in the streets, the streets is talkin'
Often it's beef this city never does
here says he thinks you're wrapped too tight. 
“But, by the way thanks for playing ‘Moon River' last night” 

And his name is Rex Bob Lowenstein
coming down by the time the song is over
And she starts feelin' lonely
Feelin' she's the only ordinary solitary one
All alone the solitary one

Oh,
you're talkin' about a vasectomy, yeah
I'll be writin' down your obituary...history!

You got your bitches with the silicone injections
Crystal meth
I'm talkin' 'bout now
By the way, this song's for you, sincerely, me
this new song It's dope man)
compact disc to the prime is optimist
fans and friends I'm universally cosmic
concrete jungles abound
you stand by
This country has been surprised by the way the world looks now.  They don't know if they want to be Matt Dillon or Bob Dylan.  They don't know if they
memory, when my dad played me "One Love"
Qawwali on the tape brahhh, Bob Marley on the wave brahhh

Peep me on the TV, I'm a talking head, a pundit
jailin

You get close , look at his hands

That's the same kid that cut his wrists , talkin bout the cuffs did it

He ran away , frontin majorly , eyes
Yeah, yeah, you know how me and you do

[Verse 1]
Real People walk in the streets, the streets is talkin'
Often it's beef this city never does
or die tryin times
Greed that I see
Got these cats
Whipped by tv
3 generations of fatherless women
We drownin instead of swimmin
This ain't what
tryin' times
Greed that I see
Got these cats
Whipped by TV
Three generations of fatherless women
We drownin' instead of swimmin'
This ain't what
intro: This is one of those songs you can clap along too...

[Slug]
Hides the eyes beneath the bill of the cap
Walks amoungst the flies that hover
(Who?)
I'm talkin' 'bout dabs by the slab in the lab
You don't even know nothin' 'bout it
You tryna get this high? Little nigga I doubt it
Don't you
some flour
Work hard in the kitchen like a culinary school
I be doin my thang, I'm a culinary fool
So much Pj, I was pissin that shit, talkin bottles