Lyrics:
evidence for
If these things are what you mean by God
Then I believe in God but I
Don't believe in a personal
God to whom I look for comfort or for a
Natural
to right
Where have I been all my life, like Ella Fitzgerald
At last my love has come along.
On a Sunday afternoon, I forgot about you
to me. She's 90. She don't know no new blacks. She was hitting me with throw-blacks. She was like, ""Do you know Ella Fitzgerald?"" Ella Fitzgerald? This
sadder)
Can't you see it?
For me, you are the one
And if I'm not the one for you
Don't you see it?
I was on the stairs
Ella Fitzgerald in the air
When there are clouds in the sky
You'll get by
If you smile through your fears and sorrow
Smile and maybe tomorrow
You'll see the sun come shining
Fitzgerald scatting's basically rapping
When we know we lost our language
Then you know what has happened
So when you hear somebody’s rapping
The base of it is
are not
Hearing Ella sing
She sang with Bing and Frank and Nat
On everything from jazz to scat
You bet your bottom dollar that you want to swing
The way you sing off key
The way you haunt my dreams
No, no, they can't take that away from me
[Bridge: Ella Fitzgerald]
We may never, never meet again,
cheese enemas for the poor.
Testicles: So dude, when are you gonna introduce me to Ella Fitzgerald's underwear and Jerry van Dyke's pancreatic fluids?
or tinder?
TIM: I... am an enchanter.
ARTHUR: By what name are you known?
TIM: There are some who call me... Tim?
ARTHUR: Greetings, Tim the Enchanter.
you, boy
Cause you were not afraid of me
But things are gonna get mighty rough
Here in Gomorrah-By-The-Sea
He said it's just like home
It's so damned
time to get me gear together,
I don't need to worry about the weather.
Ramble in for a pint of stout,
And you'd never know who'd be hangin' about!
survive many climates
Calm and thoroughly, they try to Hyman Roth me
John Fitzgerald me, the industry never bought me
Fear will make you reveal who you
you’re laying in the shallow end of the gene pool
Men are trash I'm doing dirt I need tools
Locate me I will never hide away
I set the tempo but I won’t
Shifman and Bob Power
Like they are the same person
They had just gave purpose to me
What I mean?
Who you oughta believe?
The kids that be in your ears?
through
The dusty streets of Italy in a cage
And later confined to a madhouse
Celine robbed, hooted at, tormented by
The French
Fitzgerald who finally quit
King Cole
Ella Fitzgerald, and all them classic tracks we know
All the kids is outside playing in the snow
While Mom and Dad are bundled up under
uh, I don’t have music.
DEVIN:
Not to worry, James has the sheet music.
CHARLOTTE:
I-
RICK:
Are you stopping this or am I?
ELLA:
Levi?
ROBERT:
No
go pin it on niggas
The gold diggers is different
They soul missing on missions
The road triggered by missiles
That blood money gon hit you
Rip skin
Back in the day, back in the day
Oh yeah
Y'all remember back in the day, you dig
Ray Charles, Nat King Cole, Miles Davis, Ella Fitzgerald
Yeah
Pa' las mayore', pa' las menore'
Pa' las que son más zorra' que los cazadore'
Pa' las mujere' que no apagan sus motores
Who's this? (Pa-pi N.O.R
the day
I'll do it
Back in the day, back in the day
Ohh yeah
Y'all remember back in the day, you dig
Ray Charles, Nat King Cole, Miles Davis, Ella
exploited.
Peoples' pride and dignity is burnt in Napalm
And hand-held flame-throwers.
The poor and underprivileged are raped and tormented
By leaders who
lawyers you have discussed lepers and crooks
You've been through all of F. Scott Fitzgerald's books
You are very well read
It's well known
But
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