Lyrics:
self-evident
Compared to all the logical fallacies prevalent
In terms of dropping bars, I'm never hesitant
G-Mat Music, I fully represent
Musically, my
answer)
But she got run by a parade yeh but still she got her hands out
(Really got her hands out)
Like where's your manners
Oh no
Money why she like
preying on anyone trying to rain down
On my parade like bad weather
You like me or not
It won't change the plot from thickening
Take the beat stick it in
butt down on below
Ding dong sound the alarms, it's me I'm coming over
Don't you hear them serenade us
Don't be late for our parade, come
Let me show you what you missing
When my music they skipping
I'm so into it, intuitive, in touch with intuition
This the work of technicians
in so hard with all these bars
No Xanax, and fuck who next
Claim my crown, I know who down and know who ain't
Don't think I'm a saint, think I'm
.
So make way.
So make way.
That's what the captain say.
Down St. Charles and Esplanade,
Here comes
The big parade.
"Throw me somethin', mister."
Dear black boy I thought I would inform you
That Webster defines black as dirty, spoiled
Absent of light, very sad, gloomy, marked by the occurrence
'Cause I did the album with Crypt, not you
They ain't realize everything that I knew
I'm known by many, but respected by few
And I know nobody has handed
down the slacks
Well equipped with our Foster Grants
Billy-clubbed pants
We're fashionably late
For the convoy parade
Cops float by and wave
And it's
(Maybach Music)
Oh I see how this shit go now
I see how these niggas movin'
It's not a problem
I can adapt to it
Check
When you get a lil'
I just want to take some time to
Speak a little real
Just want to say Thank You God first and foremost
Just being with me all this time
Seeing me
Broken windows in an empty house
Cigarette smoke still dances around
The bottle is empty with waves crashing down
Filling a void that you can turn
The Black Parade
Until it's heard through the whole damn place
Something 'bout this music ain't the same
I'll build a blanket fort if I can stay
I said I
as it's grooving
Makes me laugh
Makes me smile all the while
Whenever I'm with you, girl
While we dance, make romance
I'm enchanted by the
Things
the part of boogie down Bronx"
"The Bronx keeps creating it, you know how that goes"
MC Gels
cyo its gels
I hold things down up in Webster
On the 168th
and permanent housing
I run with a falcon, a tree spotter taught me accountin'
I'm 'bout to get these white people caught up, in they bed of lies
Webster
say, "Isn't he something?"
Rock from New York City all the way down South
Saying rhymes and making music, with my mouth
I'm a tell you party people
MY PARADE
(Music & Lyrics: Anders Wikström BMG Scandinavia AB)
Verse 1
I prayed for the thunder
To come and pull me under
So
the Websters definition of
I ask this Christmas to show more love
Ever since my father died, I'd spent more time with bitterness
In solitary like I'm serving
we comin down and a nigga feel so trilla
Cause Im comin with Big Moe, My Kici and Po-yo
I even gotta tight what cut from the playa Joe
Man let me get
the bus
This ain't that 3-foot kid, webster papadakus
I got stupid vision like the very first hubbell
You'll be playing my game like I was pop-o-matic
from dreaming...
Then I woke up from dreaming
OLD BRUSH ARBORS
(Darrell Edwards - G. Ardis)
« © '66 Glad Music »
(Old Brush Arbors by
I love music, any kind of music
I love music, just as long as it's groovy
Makes me laugh, makes me smile
for the world when I'm with you boy
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