Lyrics:
supporting the businesses
That's owned by the blacks
But go to 7-11 happily buying their snacks
People working these fucking doubles
And breaking their backs
is calling
Creatures keep on crawling
Fever must be falling
If there's something in their eyes
Taken you by surprise
But you always forget
pole ass nigga, no better than the ho', the type that don't like to see good shit grow. Ought to hang you and tag you by the toe John Doe, trick
the hours of my life
Get chewed up by that clock
I'm gonna lose my mind if I don't find
A way out of this box
Stuck in a rut
Stuck in this town
Stuck
I open my door
Walk out from my bed today
I feel fulfilled much better than last Saturday
Iʼm doing my chores
Say goodbye sloppy lazy me
Donʼt
give no fucks, I want him dead by this Wednesday
Funeral on Saturday, want him buried where his mans lay (bah)
I ain't going to step or doing shit
waiting I'm waiting
I'm waiting for you
Is Saturday night and I'm partying
Even though I'm sick of the party scene
I got sick on my cardigan
Your parting
she's left by herself
All alone on the shelf
Nothing left to see but repeats on Red Planet TV
There's a boy on the moon
He sits in his room
There's
Come with me
I hear a voice in the back of the bar on a Saturday
Stranger, or danger, or angel? I don't know anyway
But I take a chance on a good
of the time halfway through crying (ooh, ahh, ooh, ahh)
She don't live here by herself
Sleeping in the bed she's made
Reading books about self help
Working
planned routes just a journey to
All fake niggas shook
Speak the truth over hard street
Niggas look, real crook by the book
Never did I testify
AK 40 plenty
more than a whimsy
By way of contrast
On Saturday last
I went to a marvelous party
We didn't start dinner till ten
And young Bobbie Carr
Did a stunt
i'll write it in a letter
but it won't upset her
i'll tell her that i don't care
that she's my saturday nightmare
'though i'm no longer sleeping
girl as fly as Saturdays
And every time she smiled my way like honey to me
I would hold my heart as well as my hopes back
For fear of how she would have
fiddle ]
Well I'm always slipped to my best ole jeans I love to eat them beans
Why super hillbilly he lives in luxury
I ain't no groovier guy by heck
Sitting pretty on a Saturday afternoon
There were clouds in my mind there were birds in my heart
All of the pictures that hung in my room
And all
went about all the wrong way
She still hangin in bars, being Diana Ross
Friday and Saturday jumping back and forth in niggas cars
Now I fill wid King
and I'm no good in bed
Thought it was raining when you pissed down my leg
I'm having trouble with my Saturday night
Thought your stool sample was
TIME
ON A SATURDAY NIGHT
DOWN TOWN ON GRANVILLE STREET AT THE COMMODORE
IS WHERE YOU’LL FIND US TONIGHT
WOAH WOAH WOAH
WOAH WOAH WOAH
THIS HERE IS
On Monday ferryboat, we’re coming back we’re on our way
On Sunday at the blue, yeah we only played in there for a few
On Saturday at the coco, after
about fun
You know what it is
I got this, you got this (I got this)
My friend is by my right end
I got this, you got this
Now you know it
I only talk to you by telephone
And rarely see you on my weekends home
I'd rather sit and watch my television shows
You know as well as me we're
the ground
As well as several bullet holes in the victim's home
Then Saturday evening, a woman told police her car was hit
By bullets on Witsell Street
have too much fun on a Saturday night
Hanging with your friends 'neath that old moonlight
It's a good thing
Yeah, it's a good thing
It's like
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