Lyrics:
dem by ourselves
Small small children
Old mama dem
Naked face you
Stand with one leg
Bend yanch face you
Begin swear you in
With big big juju
Amadioha
dem by ourselves
Small small children
Old mama dem
Naked face you
Stand with one leg
Bend yanch face you
Begin swear you in
With big big juju
Amadioha
action, guaranteed raw
I hang with the rich and I work for the poor
Now tomorrow you can say you saw
Krs-one stompin' once more
I play by ear, I love
price
Confirmed by that old shoe
It's more than just an old shoe
It's a token of his grace
Reminding her of his great love
And the price that her redeemer
To break this poor boys heart in two
I can't say them old sad songs on the jukebox
Are causin' me to cry these bitter tears
The only time they do is when
to be
In the old spot by the river
Right well known by you and me.
One word more, a signal token
Whistle of the marchin' tune
With your pike upon
plainly brayed,
"Well, there's an angel about to strike you from the path"
Then old Balaam's eyes were opened
And he realized he'd been saved
By his
of death
Will be Kelly, the boy from Killanne!
But the gold sun of freedom grew darkened at Ross
And it set by the Slaney's red waves;
And poor Wexford,
as quiet as could be
He cut him down like a big
Oak tree when he said
It's been many years since we had to part
And I guess I learned his ways by heart
I
interest on the loan.
So my poor dejected mourners let your hearts with Jesus rest
And don't go criticizein' no one the one that knows the best
He gives us
Sometimes I think about it
And my poor heart wants to die about it
Woooooo about the sweet sweet love I lost
And the way I got double crossed
By
him to come back
My eyes are blurred my poor old heart is breaking
As I'm writing you this letter edged in black
Then I bowed my head and in silence
fucking head
Shark Week has overtaken her poor heart, like a kitten in a microwave, her insides blow apart
My baby can't help but bleed, the toilet is her
When you were mine my old true love
Then your head lay on my breast
You could make me believe by the falling of your arm
That the sun rose up in
rave to see
With a dark complexion she was sex symbol befo' Marilyn Monroe
But her heart stopped before they gave props to the old pro
It took
Still remember Big Spank got slayed
Right on Allen Temple
My God poor people you're my
Heart and it that simple
And I'ma rap through the hurt
Until I meet
cash rewards for those who know who might throw a tip
How many hustlers you know old and rich
And happy
We were minutes away from baggies
From a place
Bottle of wine, and an old 45, rifle in the corner that her grandfather left her when he died,
Said no surprise,
I've had to use it quite a few
losing
Poor old Erin's Isle they began abusing
"Hurrah me soul" says I, me Shillelagh I let fly
Galway boys were by and saw I was a hobblin'
With
poor dejected mourners, let your hearts with Jesus rest
Don't go criticizin' the One that knows the best
He's give us many comforts, He has the right
a peanut from dih peanut man ,when him ago true inna dih dance, aii.
inna him box him have every thing yuh want ,herbs by dih bud and by the stalk,
the top
a river blowin'
Every so mean guy
Just so lips are happy
But sad AK get his steam
Line up in balls
Sigh
Now's attacking but they give me O
Poor old Misato
Walkin' To Missouri
Sammy Kaye
Peaked at # 11 in 1952
Words and music by Bob Merrill, 1952
Poor little robin walkin', walkin', WALKIN'
When you were mine my old true love
Then your head lay on my breast
You could make me believe by the falling of your arm
That the sun rose up in
.jpg/214px-Sleigh_Bells_C04_(8176850057).jpg "Alexis Krauss")
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