Search results for 'by he dead album 7 servants' Page #27

catch up to me
Fuck feds in the street
I was half dead in the streets
Had to make bread in the streets
I was getting it cheap
Plug stay checking with me

So he can see me steady wright my lyrics down
And see my lookin up, inspired by his poster
Chasin my dreams, he's putting my closer
Just trying to be

with these crashing waves, it could feel like a houseboat
I choose to be a servant leader, who walks humble to be aligned with His will
Cuz you may see

아무도 나를 몰라도
머리위에 걸친 왕관이 보여 나는
I'll gonna make my kingdom
and sell my fuckin album
Teach it how to sing like me
모두가 내 노래를 따라불러
아마 난 됐어 내가 원하던 연예인이
TV를

Man-made doom bled death from the sky;
to all but a few, salvation was denied
Heavenly father, son and holy ghost,
save your servants (those of us

the officer
(C)
Cornelius Brown, cops chose to kill
They shot him seven times, he was mentally ill
(D)
Dominic Fuller was murdered, it gets stranger
They

back that broken plate
And It's all on the face
And It's hidden by shade
Seven dark lights of grey
Seven shaded with paint
Don't say you're love ain't

I was 15 attending summer
School at Hawthorne High
Spending most of my nights trying
To find any snippets
Of the album on various German sites then 7

Cos her boyfriend's up
New age rapper
Blew up on TikTok
Claims he's a gangster
But the album flopped
Guess it wasn't drip enough
Label's dropped him

Brown Paper Bag/Flashing Lights [Remix]

Fat Joe

Drive Slow: The Trap Party

2008

for that)
Brown paper bag (we the best)

Just pulled over in my 7-5
Big bottle on the dash, hope he let me slide
Got 20 in the trunk you can bet me

Just Don't Give a Fuck [Radio Edit]

Eminem

The Slim Shady EP

1997

the brothers representin' the Dirty Dozen
I be the F-R-O the double G
And check out the man, he goes by the name of er

Slim Shady, brain dead like Jim Brady

The huge mags we call em dicks
Shoot him in the hip he do the splits
We not friendly we love our blicks

10 guns 9 rounds 8 opps 7 found 6 dead 5 clowns RIP

putting shit in the floor
Last nigga talked on the gang he ain't talking no more
Glock got a flash strike a pose
I cannot beef with a nigga backdoored by

'em right
They love it when I mix the baking soda with the white
Police got me on the run
'Cause they know we movin' by the ton
City to city, state

grown he got touched

God made the world in seven days
How in the hell can niggas be so amazin'
Situations that muthafuckas have to face
For instance,

rhymes 
A year went by
I focused my thoughts on 
Jottin' life through the lens
Of someone who had fell 
But wouldn't lose a fight 
Regrouped and proved he

Red blade with the wind, rain
Ima sensei by the pen way
Ima kick it, not Lui Kang
Like a centaur, with a feng shui
With low top and a flute playing

Red blade with the wind, rain
Ima sensei by the pen way
Ima kick it, not Lui Kang
Like a centaur, with a feng shui
With low top and a flute playing

cause know I don't want to hear yo album
I don't want to hear it, hear it, just a bunch of links
I wonder what happened to Late Night Money Making
I

Blow

EPMD

We Mean Business

2008

shit, EPMD strictly hardcore
Been there, done did it and 'bout to do it again
Stompin' through it with the heavenly grin
With seven number one albums

dollars exactly (Rite-aid)
But ATMs can't take out thirty-seven
But he said if it's not thirty-seven I'll commit
Suicide
My brakes would break and I would

Thought depression was caused by something, must be nothing
Didn't admit to us, not even to himself
Feelings he tried to push away, put on a shelf
He had

Collude/Intrude

Company Flow

Funcrusher Plus

1997

antaxion 

Elbowed with a vacumn pure death MC's with closed captions 

Wind up in the willows, catch the whirling dervish 

Or the dead and dumb

up 85 on the dash
Wondering is this the dream are we really free at last
Then you see the news another death by the cops hand
Black man you ain’t free