Lyrics:
the news
Call the boys downtown at Neiman Marcus
Tell 'em lock up them high-heeled shoes
When God Fearin' Women Get The Blues
There ain't no slap dab
heard the news
Call the boys downtown at Neiman Marcus, tell 'em lock up them high-heeled shoes
When God-Fearin' women get the blues
There ain't no slap
heard the news
Call the boys downtown at Neiman Marcus, tell 'em lock up them high-heeled shoes
When God-Fearin' women get the blues
There ain't no
Yo I'm rich, black the 6, the Lac
The Phantom, the strap, stay on my lap
I'm a hustler, ganja puffer, iron tucker
I get ripped in the afternoon
Well, my mama used to tell me
A good woman's hard to find
Get a God-fearin', down-home girl that'll stay right by your side
But mama's boy's grown
my name when I name drop, son
Who's the god in this pantheon?
Two-9, Alkebulan, Alkebulan, Alkebulan, Alkebulan
Get up trick
Put your head
ARTHUR: Well, I AM king...
DENNIS: Oh king, eh, very nice. An' how'd you get that, eh? By
exploitin' the workers -- by 'angin' on to outdated
afraid at our snarls
Thank God we didn't get beat by the Red Hot Karls
I care about culture of my squad
But after praccy I'm a really need to stretch my
peepin' in horn
Killin' all these pussy niggaz think they keepin' in God
Pistol cocked on the block and all they fearin' is death
Then again nigga,
heard the news
Call the boys downtown at Neiman Marcus
Tell 'em lock up them high heel shoes
[Chorus:]
When God-fearin' women get the blues
There
women make
As they sip from slender glasses by the vineyard lake
Blue rose and drew the curtain back on the morning
Blue rose and every little
of a moment in time where
Women who are fighting for their lives to get
Justice and be treated fairly & you
Just looked at it as an opportunity to
Get ahead
heard the news
Call the boys downtown at Neiman Marcus
Tell 'em lock up them high heel shoes
[Chorus]
When God-fearin' women get the blues
There
face, when you see me get the fuck on
Dope fiend ass nigga, tryna to get a free check
Talkin' that shit, but you's a motherfuckin' bitch
So when you see
and bows
For there's no blue Monday in your Sunday
No Monday is your Sunday
No Monday in your Sunday clothes
Townspeople:
Put on your Sunday clothes when
of the inspiration
Livin' on a cloud, fearin' that I'll never make it
Workin' for the opportunity
I'm gonna take it
Even when I'm at the bottom, gonna fake it
Puttin'
waitin'
On that county check/ I'm a young bull but I ain't fearin' shit/ so I get my hustle on/ gotta see a
Grip/ or I'm not coming home sure not empty
got a AK on me like a Russian
Wet a nigga up like a cup of Tussin, mag full of trash we gon' get to dumping
The lil' bitch froze when I pull the watch
deep in LA
Just gave the wood to Holly
I don't get finicky
I just get finished
My nigga Blonko got the beats
But he ain't got a blemish
I bet it make yo
So many women
So many benefits that come with spendin'
On God
I'm with my niggas, so many hittas, 'cause niggas be trippin'
On God
So many women
So
of death, we can not save ourselves.
To breathe is not enough.
Yes sir, I Will.
When you woke this morning you looked so rocky-eyed,
Blue and white
pole position
Brag it about the ride you're whipping, your soul is missing
Race it till your death to your holly celebration
God bless a lady if only
A "DRAW,"
AND THE DUMMY GETS HIS TUCKER THRO' PROVISIONS IN THE LAW;
WHERE THE LABOUR-AGITATOR -- WHEN THE SHEARERS RISE IN MIGHT
MAKES HIS MONEY SACRIFICING
color me bad blue faces
Get that new money
And it’s breaking me down to the top
I love god, I love speed, I love drank
I love me i love oceans in
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