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know they don't wanna go back, no glory Scene IV, the pimp got took out by Barry's brother We got this tip on some new fresh bait Money in their heads
Dear John, oh, how I hate to write Dear John, I must let you know tonight That my love for you has died away like grass upon the lawn And tonight I
to biz, you know I'm a diss them fast So play like 98.7 and kiss my ass! Cause me and rap is like peanut butter and jelly Which reminds me of a song by
with John Kelly, editor of Yeats' letters, discussions and notes from a Valentine Cunningham of Oxford, a note from Michel Butor, and other old letters
Dear John, oh, how I hate to write Dear John, I must let you know tonight That my love for you has died away like grass upon the lawn And tonight I
Mann from Scary Movie you banned from being mooly I keep it black gutter, white gutter, Chinese gutter by these brothers Here try these fuckers here All
cannot hear But your iniquities have separated between you And your God, my dear My brother and your sins have hid his face from you That he will not
of his love of games (He finished his set that night By retreating to play Galaga as John Mayer riffed on guitar) Now As he spots The original Pong, Super
brothers Here try these fuckers here [Chorus] All my niggas let's do it All my bitches florin that ass let's do it Looks a crooked eye muthafucka
many miles They locked me in a prison cell to await my trial John 'Babbacombe' Lee John 'Babbacombe' Lee The man who'd defend me was ill and couldn't
pass Just as the bus pulls up and I step to the rear This old lady look like she drank a 40 of fear I see my old-school partner, said his brother got
pass Just as the bus pulls up and I step to the rear This old lady look like she drank a 40 of fear I see my old-school partner, said his brother got
Finna get all of this money like it’s a Thursday yea Ahead by a mile I’m in first place yea I hope all my haters fall in the worse way yea Talkin all
from Far Rock hoppin' Over the turnstile To set up shop up top by the Jamaican spot My joints have been a Bop, from vinyl, cassettes, cDs and streams
cause I'm going so hard other brothers stay limp like Fred Durst But my African soul's the only thing I can claim not saying that I was abandoned by
made my brothers real proud When I sold my first pound, I turned a dime to a mil Man, this shit is getting real While you niggas being fake How you
for you when the skies black I share your wish my brother John And though our memories linger on I’ve crossed through the border, crossed over
brother worth another twenty and he a hustler (yeah) So y'all off to a good start, just got to run it up I ain't do this shit by myself (nah) Shout to my
want the starch get pressed by them steamers Billy official, I am my brother's keeper I'm my brother's keeper You ain't never lie I'm my brother's
funk Shit gets out of hand, I got a TEC in the trunk Let's flip the ill shit, kid, yo, he looped it Hardcore, straight to make you brothers act stupid
the swerve and shadow, Bennet from deep with his feet on tiptoe, Barry john move sleek when in state-flow, Prince Edwards at peak was primo, JPR, JJ ring
Up by the Bear Creek falls Somewhere in the night We was picking in a circle Had a banjo to my right They said his name was John And that boy sure
Up by the Bear Creek falls Somewhere in the night We was picking in a circle Had a banjo to my right They said his name was John And that boy sure
There's only two types of men Pimps and John's There's one type of bitch That's a hoe God damn hooker this is my world God damn time to go
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