Lyrics:
Yeah
Oh my god this
Fucking uh
Yeah uh yeah uh yeah aye
I said hold up wait a minute
Man ya'll all thought i was finished
Imma hit the racket just
for a clearance
I judge by character
You judge appearance
You hear me
You copy
Ain’t no interference
My words are not slurred
And my speech is
When I see you on the street
My whole body gets weak
When you're standing in a crowd
Your love talks to me so loud
Girl, do I do, what you do,
a righteous citizen
I could have made all those right decisions
But now I don't know who my friend is
Can you tell me Rocky Dennis
Now I don't know who my
a righteous citizen
I could have made all those right decisions
But now I don't know who my friend is
Can you tell me Rocky Dennis
Now I don't know who my
like Urk
And yo, my Family Matters, so all you mad hatters
Put your thinking caps on and motherfuckin' brainstorm
'Cause I got the plan that wins
desire)
Barry, you want some chicken
(The undeniable passion)
Aw, you that singin' stuff
(The love, of someone are some thing)
You know you want some
desire)
Barry, you want some chicken
(The undeniable passion)
Aw, you that singin' stuff
(The love, of someone are some thing)
You know you want some
no mistake
You're in the place to be by far so let's get
Crazy like we ain't never gonna see tomorrow, come on
Are you comfortable right there,
"Dateline" are the best exposure
Now you're still, on the news and everybody knows ya
Yeah, yeah
By, my, side
To all the niggas tryin' to get me it's, by
Dennis is 45 and lives at home with mum
Just like he's done for his whole life
And though he's not all there and doesn't go out anywhere
His mum
and parents
Will say we were wrong about you Dennis
Hey Dennis!
That's my name!
Are you really going to run with the bulls?
Why would I do that?
'Cause
Y'all know by the flow who's the master
I can feel it in the air, it's coming, I'm here
You're running and scared, to me it's nothing prepare
For your
ballin
Tell scott to cut a check
I should be sponsored by Spaulding
See me in the club
Wit’ my n****s
And you know we mobbin
Everything authentic wit us
you all on mines?
If I fuck your friend that gives advice, that a be a crime
You give her a Richard Mille, and she still wouldn't give you time
You in
All of my imagination
Even my self-preservation
Is yours in time
Music by Peter Furler / Lyrics by Peter Furler, Steve Taylor and Phil Joel
©©2002
to blow)
Cootie in the chair
You're all
Cheeba cheeba, y'all (you're all)
I need (all I need) (you don't stop)
To get by (yeah, yeah)
(W-w-wild, I'm
on a cold one
And the next thing you know
We are all warmly toasting each other
You'd have to be crazy to fish in this weather
I don't know how anyone does
Watched all my friends die or change in front me
Ride around with that desert bird in the front seat
The four-pound BLOWS! it just goes so loud
Hit you dead
love my enemy
You could never take my history
You could never block my destiny
Never did love follow me
And I'll never return to poverty
Never fooled by
to bring a good time and you can ask Portnoy
Saturdays are for the boys
This is my conscription all of y'all pay attention
If you wanna criticize, at me
the dust, I know in whom I can trust
I send my prayers up while yours are covered in dust
We in between hemispheres so I think we're Midwest
Or Call us
dragged my name in the dirt (nope, oh, yeah, yeah)
All this work to be successful
When you abandon me 'cause of what you heard (yeah, oh, yeah, heard)
I
Humphrey my brother behind the cam
Hanging with a Dennis you might as well call him Kam, I'm sick
Motherfucker I'm iller than all these yappers
I'm wearing
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