Lyrics:
Don't do it for the media cah the .44's like Graeme Souness
When it kicks, it's a hurler
That's your girl in backshots
I heard your song when you said
life on the line what else you want me to give
Even thinking that this war was wrong I move along
Just did my 3rd tour it's the same ole song
By the time
lord
Oh tell me is it a stairway to heaven I can't afford?
Racin' in this race you might have a crash collision
While your babies find their way to make
1. Through the winter and the cold, our faith can weaken and grow old;
so we ache to find a song of a God, one to whom we can belong.
Instead
Written by Kevin Bacon
Strings written and arranged by Michael Bacon
"A guide book for the paranoid." KB
I'm in Paris, won't be here long
But after
kinda flippy, pockets never skimpy
Married to Marijuana with that drama you can miss me
Fifty-fifty I'm a playa, slash money maker by nature
I get that
fold these cranes of paper to a thousand one by one
And I'll fly away when I'm done
Her ancestors knew the legend, if you make a thousand cranes
(By Tracey Bryn & Mike Jones)
Finding out the truth about you
Was finding the moon is made of dust
Oh no, I have seen this mood before
Tension,
anymore
I’m not intrigued by what you’re looking for
Here where I am now there is space for only me
R&R baby
Goodbye crazy
Goodbye crazy
Goodbye crazy
they shot and burned Jhosivani's friends, the boys he slept next to and one time, by the whistle trees, sang a song about Christmas
He asks about justice
to Lamar…
Mississippi
Well, the house where she used to live
It ain’t there no more
You know they tore it down, down, down
Years ago
I can't go by
miss my dorm room baby
Little shawty been pressure
You know i'm from the bang em
Where we slang em
Plaques and degrees
Imma hang em
Been screaming all
singing songs off Station To Station?
And Alderaan's not far away, it's Californication
Born and raised by those who praise control of population
Well,
first
So when you play my song in the functions
Know you should call for the nurse
Who's in the back of the rave
With a Yak on the range when I
You're a song written by the hands of God
Don't get me wrong 'cause this might sound to you a bit odd
But you own the place where all my thoughts go
down to the shoreline
Hear the last song that I ever wrote
My dear, you swore you'd make it home by morning
Now every day I sit and stare at the sea
down to the shoreline
Hear the last song that I ever wrote
My dear, you swore you'd make it home by morning
Now every day I sit and stare at the sea
In Betlehem a baby boy was born,
Born to build the bomb.
What was the fighting for,
And who remembers his song?
The boy was king; he was a prodigy,
all she'll do is holler
Oh, my life has become
A country song
I've learned she can resist me
By the way she always disses me
And comes to bed
But this song ain't about none of the above
We're not punished for our sins, but "by them"
Thought I'd get myself a little passion play
But I can
Already these niggas packing offa my man black
With singing the song, peepin the knowledge what's going on?
Long is long, about it by what goes on
These
is harder to find
Let me just be your song during this quarantine
But baby make sure that your phone is clean
Okay, Okay
Everything’s gon’ be okay
baby, run, you're just past the border
We're here all praying that you make it in that dirty, dirty Camaro"
In that dirty Camaro
He drew a heart
with no coonery
Shine bright like jewellery
Cocoa Butter Babies shine bright
People get bitter when you be on
That’s why they call it the lime light
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