Lyrics:
killing people for free
Open your eyes let’s be for real you never seen a man get burned in the fields
The only man you’ve seen upon the cross
They call
Dachau blues, those poor Jews
Dachau blues, those poor Jews
Dachau blues, Dachau blues, those poor Jews
Still cryin' 'bout the burnin' back in
the power of God then? It’s in the eternal vindication/
Of enemies of the God man given direct by God’s hands/
Full of grace and truth, given us the way we
on 'cross that old Rabun County line"
The man at the door said, "Boy, you got a knife"
I said, "No, sir, no, swear on my life"
He said, "Well, you better go
If you two-wheelin', tryna chill, get a kickstand
Everybody gettin' money had a game plan
Every truth seeker dropped by a hit man
Everybody
where we can go
Fuck what a nigga talk, I'm young Christopher in my soul
Walking that is, I'm King of New York and cross the globe
DC nigga this a DC mind
Yidle-diddle-didle-didle man.
I'd build a big tall house with rooms by the dozen,
Right in the middle of the town.
A fine tin roof with real wooden floors below.
There
nobody by my side
When I was in need
I got million dollar worth fantasies
I may kill my self for my Ecstasies
She told me to quit music
Even though I
I don't give a damn I ain't scared of no man
I'll travel with the work like a nomad
Christopher Wallace this shit gettin heavy
Now I look at my pocket
patient while I'm here
I'ma be a light in the basement
Some OG's said I sound like SPM mucho respeto
Saint Christopher emblem making my neck glow
Only rock
Nicki Minaj's eyeliner is a
Precision event, a marvel
As if drawn on by the kind of
Pre-programmed robot arm used
For laparoscopic surgeries
It is
eludes
Could this hold the key to Riemann's final prophecy?
By the prismatic light of the twin stars of Thyraxia!
Infrared and ultraviolet beams
Jesus Christ was a man
Who traveled through the land
A hard working man and brave
He said to the rich,
"Give your goods to the poor."
But they
the prod
Fuck time, like Christopher Walken
Walking crooked on the line, while the nypd be snortin
Contorting around the beat
Abortion clinics protect
say the rich have the cure
The rich say the poor are the source
Revolutionaries say it's psychological war
Invented by the press, just to have
And that's why I'm sittin' here
Lookin' cross the table at you
That's why I'm sittin' here
Lookin' cross the table at you
Well a lonely man needs
somebody else instead
Down the highway, down the tracks
Down the road to ecstasy
I followed you beneath the stars
Hounded by your memory
And all your
somebody else instead
Down the highway, down the tracks
Down the road to ecstasy
I followed you beneath the stars
Hounded by your memory
And all your
a hundred grand
Oh yeah, oh yeah
Man I make this money dance
I criss cross, she sun tans
Propellers out the window over our lands
Where I land
Girl we
easy
Ion know why we gotta grind hard
Just to die and leave the bread
Mehn that shit so crazy
Ma own man di try for double
Cross me for make money
Only
suggest you pout
I'ma send this nigga out, get blessed by the God
Don't get clapped on
Just a young black man with a backbone
In the back come home,
Idle-diddle-daidle-daidle man.
I'd build a big tall house with rooms by the dozen,
Right in the middle of the town.
A fine tin roof with real wooden floors below.
There
Pray for the poor from a throne of gold,
Your faith won't change what is real,
Your omnipresent, all-knowing God
Needs money so he can heal.
way cross the floor
To the place where you stand
He's walking, he's flying
The poor boy is trying to be by your side
When the waltzing begins
Discuss these poor mans ecstasy by christopher cross Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In