Lyrics:
as black as a African
But they call her American
Very thin yeah she be messing
Around with married men
When he comes home
She's never asking him where he
On my way home i'm on my way home
I just got lost, on my way home again and
I'm in cold LA i'm in Dallas, Texas
I'm back in South Florida, I feel
Shake your head and
Say it's a shame.
Spin me back down the years and the days of my youth.
Draw the lace and black curtains and shut out the whole
bring it home you gotta have a good meal fixed
Seven, this rule is so underrated, gotta keep your feelings and your money separated
It's okay to let him
a lady and you let him be the man
Number six: Know how to put
It down in the kitchen
When he bring it home you gotta
Have a good meal fixed
Seven, this
the sign of the times like hand gestures
And no matter, where in the world, in Rome I get the money and always bring it back to
This, happy home
This,
drag him straight down to the reaper
Call the paul bearers, bring a bible tell the preacher
Test me, double dare ya', I heard God he want to meet ya'
Get
Pop the trunk who's the kid?
You really had to buck him?
You couldn't just snuff him?
Yo he had to lose his wig?
Fuck you bring him here for?
What you
boots on
Workin' like hell 'til the dinner bell brings him back home
Blue collar in his blood, backwoods in his bones
No doubt about it that boy's country
to tell him that she loved him
And she hung up the phone singin'
Roll on highway, roll on along
Roll on daddy till you get back home
Roll on family,
On the street with the chrome
So you won't make it home
I be killin MC by the bunches
I'm be the one that droppin
All them deadly punches
[2x]
[Knightowl]
I'm
boy
[Verse 1-DJ Paul:]
Now as I run through tha trees with my infiltry
I got my M16 and my artilary
I got my full blooded soldiers in tha back
this.
{DJ Paul}
y'all Know the motherfuckin score bitch.
y'all boys y'all boys ain't ready for this
Hot Boys Hot Boys gunnin with
a genius! Tell him
About your invention idea, baby!
KIM: Ok, uh you know how the people who
Wash your clothes sometimes have to go home
But you have a top
phone
Look, nigga, I ain't rich, I did some shit that I just wish I'd take it back
Borrowed my heart, but nigga they ain't bring it back
Nigga, I ain't
7-elevens
Gettin' my gas, short hand encounters
Slidin' convenience across them counters
Come home again, is that what they mean by Heaven
Well here I am,
and
Nigga I'm home on these charts, y'all niggas visitin'
It's Hov tradition, Jeff Gordon of rap
I'm back to claim pole position, holla at ya boy
Get up,
a sig
In the bing I'm like Ving Rhames I bring pain
I sling cane off the wing like I'm King James
Y'all doubtin' who when I spit the whole lead
They
bitches
Gold on your waist I'm on your back
You love to smoke and you're oh so attached
Water my soul take all control
New movements on Paul like Simon
Seeing the same river, the same buildings, the same history
As Paul Simon, as Lou Reed
Playing Interpol or The Strokes
Where I grew up listening to Is This
problem child
Problem ta the devil and his child meow
Any my daughter Psalm a child of God
Ooh and my wifey ga be by my side yea
Ima bring her out no need
lies over the ocean
Oh, bring back my Bonnie to me
Oh, bring back, oh, bring back, oh
Bring back my Bonnie to me, to me
Oh, bring back, oh, bring back
haven't an appetite, just think of Paul Revere.
By the time that they pass a bill to bring back wine and beer,
It'll be night-time in Italy and Wednesday
brings, His wisdom with him home.
The son of a king shall be silent and wise, And bold in battle as well;
Bravely and gladly a man shall go, Till the day
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