Lyrics:
thirteen year old boobs
I'd hang out by the junior
High like my dad does
Tom: Hey
You know what I learned in fifth grade?
Mark: What's that
Your dad has
on Actavis (Lean!)
While you niggas drinkin' on margaritas
Sad to say that shit panned out how it is
Check my pinky ring, it's Africa here
My mamma, she
name is Mr. Shady
Children, quiet down please
Brian, don't throw that (shut up)
Mr. Shady will be your new substitute
While Mr. Kaniff is out
name is Mr. Shady
Children, quiet down please
Brian, don't throw that (shut up)
Mr. Shady will be your new substitute
While Mr. Kaniff is out
DENNIS: Well, you could say `Dennis'.
ARTHUR: Well, I didn't know you were called `Dennis.'
DENNIS: Well, you didn't bother to find out, did you?
ARTHUR:
Year is 2030 - countless species gone
Coasts have flooded, out west it’s dry as bone
Forests are afire - it got too hot
Were we smarter than Bob? No, we
A Young Sinatra, that was undeniable
Who welcomed you to forever while Under Pressure
And told you The Incredible True Story of Bobby Tarantino
slipped
The Mac is cuttin records and punks are gettin ripped
Gangster I am, bust the lyrics like a drive-by
You wanna sleep? Well, it's lights out
showed you what yourself could achieve
Fifteen years, and we're still here
Still comin' raggo, and we're still weird
When Jamal passed, cried real tears
just tense
Somehow it ain't past yet
Five years same grade I ain't passed yet
If you run a race you always finish last yeah
Hit it from the back but I
Mr. Bob Dobailina
Oh were has my mic gone? Tell me, have you seen her?
I stretch like a condom and gets plump like a weiner
Or a sasuage, but of course
our lives looking left and
Right while we run our race
Then wonder why we're depressed and always
Finish shit in second place
Get up and get gone
You
was strong, tried his best to help Bill carry on.
Daddy turned to whisky, after momma passed. While Tom worked where he could to try to make the money
like this...
The part of Bruce the Duck is played by an oboe...
Louie the Cat is a clarinet. All right, he's not really a
clarinet. He's just --- you
can't get in your show
I'll take my tom tom and go
Yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah
While you were mine
I got so hazy
While you passed by
I found my answer
shadier than Slim
In a pair of Versaces
I know you see me shining
And practicing and grinding
While they conform to the norm
You'll catch me designing
not Mr. Bob Dobailina
Oh were has my mic gone? Tell me, have you seen her?
I stretch like a condom and gets plump like a weiner
Or a sasuage, but
I wanna party like Bon Scott on Charlie, Bob Marley non-stop,
Chris Farley pissed, party on like the bombs dropped,
So if you're drunk on Friday
not Mr. Bob Dobailina
Oh were has my mic gone? Tell me, have you seen her?
I stretch like a condom and gets plump like a weiner
Or a sasuage, but
not Mr. Bob Dobailina
Oh were has my mic gone? Tell me, have you seen her?
I stretch like a condom and gets plump like a weiner
Or a sasuage, but
to bear arms"
And, honestly, from that point on, we picked up our instruments
I got three musicians out here from New York
And we're here to play music,
to pull the
Fifth out you dropped your clip
And you dipped out
You were supposed to use the chopper
But you like Julia Roberts
Cause you nothing but a bitch
and puked out in the yard
Old School Nashville, Harlan Howard, Bob McDill
Tom T Hall go drink your fill and blow us all away
Days Of 49
~~~~~~~~~~
Im old tom moore from the bummers shore in that good old golden days
They call me a bummer and a ginsot too, but what cares
.png/220px-Pink_Floyd,_Wish_You_Were_Here_(1975).png "Wish You Were Here")
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