Lyrics:
a hole in my heart the size of a truck
it won't be filled by one-night fuck
Ain't it just my luck
I got a hole in my heart the size of a truck
In the corner by the D.J. unit
The flag of beauty my eyes salute it,
She likes love
By luck or labour
She likes love
But not for favour -
I said I'm back on my steezy
Just updated my CV
They say looks are deceiving
But it looks like the game needs me
John Cena & Stevie
Them boy der cant
(Shots Fired)
Uh yeah
I got anxiety
Brain dead
People talking "society"
I no think
Just do
Ape mode coming through
Don't roll
Make my own luck I turn
haunted by a sick & twisted poltergeist?
Whoa. That's not very nice. But I'd say it twice
Cuz all these people seem to do to me is demonize
They just
on my mind
I told her I relate, yeah, like I really give a fuck
All bullshit aside, yeah, girl, you know what I'm in it for
By way that you look when I
Parody of Sold: The Grundy County Auction by John Michael Montgomery (R. Fagan/R.Royer), Of Music (ASCAP)/RobbRoy West Music (BMI)
New Lyrics
saw my Velorex stack think I'm so sexy
But that's not what I mean by you can't fuck with me
REMIX
Fuck Janos and John
They pulled the rug so I want them
not much trust in 'em
I'm tuckin' 'em in bed, yeah bitch, fuck with 'em
And if anybody wanna test all my skill, I'll burn your face
Just by grillin' you
like John Wick
(John Wick)
We let bullets go, fuck the opps
Them niggas not 'bout shit
(Hol' up, 'Bout shit)
Pull up by myself, just a few niggas
I rock
the cards just fall
'Cause I'll bet it all…
The farm and my pickup truck
The whole pot of chips and a twist of luck
Fields of gold, the herd in the pasture
to escape my fate
To the brink of my recklessness
I'm rescued by luck alone
To the brink of my hopelessness
Rescued by luck alone
At least I feel no guilt
admit I been tempted by drugs
I admit that I just need a hug (I)
I admit the devil talk to me sometimes
But the devil is not who I trust (yeah, not who
Supper time in the hole
Supper time in the hole
I shame my family, shame my home
Supper time
Old Saint John on death row
He's just waiting for
so I can read stuff
Pieces that I wrote huh talent always beats luck
I just copped the smoke
Who want it let's ree up
Blind boy John Cena
You can never
Gotta hit it like woah
Haha, I like that, like woah
Yeah, yeah, like woah yeah, yeah, ayy
Back in my bag
Just when you thought it was over you know
Well, you said goodbye
And good luck in your Dear John letter
And I thought I'd die
'cause I thought we were carved in stone
And it made me cry as I
crawl, She a bad Jamaican ting, I met her at the dance hall
Man, who gon' have my back when I fail? When I write, you can really feel this shit just like
the roose
Caught by the blocks now they shooting at schools ( Tu tu tu )
Been wayne to get P’s like bruce,
Just How T brought pains & Moves
Like Scofield
Johnny, You play too much
They asking who it be, and I answer, it's just John N Nem
The Bible been my Choppa, so the gang gon' bring the gun with
it
Write it down, take a pic
I don't give a shit
I got the juice
You bomb bae
But can't borrow this gin
Better luck on Craig's list
Friday, it just is
broke that it's a shame
Though we're two birds of a feather
Lady luck don't even know my name
Bartender pour her a double
The band just played her
how niggas praise luck
He did a drive-by in a John Deere he a brave buck
The infrared gone mark him out
I like tracer rounds I enjoy marking my targets
I always stick to my point like a John Pase
(So cut and edit) I wouldn't have done it
If I didn't know I could get way wit' it
By the time that I
-8643.jpg/225px-John_Scofield_(cropped)-8643.jpg "John Scofield")
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