Lyrics:
where I live but what can I say
A torn down country ran by a bj
Do a few lines
Seeing the signs
Hit to the back and I'm snapping your spine
Eye for an eye
Yeah, I'm giving it over
Music by Peter Furler and Steve Taylor / Lyrics by Steve Taylor
©©2002 Dawn Treader Music (admin. by EMI Christian Music
so glad that I can rap cause I can't move no dope
But I do know, a few niggas that did and a few niggas that still
And a few niggas that's through, are
you?)
Funny how I dreamed you'd still be standing by
I had you at my beck and call
I called you any time at all
I guess I took too much for granted
Laughs
Get Crunk (okay) 24X
Cus I'm a scene kid, scene kid
Hated by few and loved by a lot
Kids follow me
But they do it so mean
Like a goddamn crowd
smoke better look to receive it ,better hope dat da shaver bends
Few G’s in da landing due to da yay
If you’re doing more Dan 5 let Er go she ain’t
(Uppermost, uppermost)
(Uppermost on my mind)
Why would you accuse me of inconsideration
When every minute and every hour
I'm at your beck
spending weekends at the De Young
Oh Geez another year gone by
Oh Please bring another beer on by
Oh Me Oh My Oh Me Oh My
Oh Me Oh My Oh Me Oh My
That was
Hay
Heavy Bank
1019
Villa get that paper girl I get that paper girl
Mike Beck
Villa Nova let's go
I don't know what y'all been told
Villa No get that
ride like Beck
Boutta give me that neck
Off these drugs... Got me dead
Wanna suck me off? I said baby go ahead
Wanna chat me up? How bout instead
Tongue
my keyboard
I'm just messing around
Messing around for a long time
Just, uh, waiting
Time to go by
Sittin' around here and watching TV
Nothing's
the way you talked
Or the mystery
Of if are you a girl or a guy
We're gonna be late for Beck
If we keep standing here
Smoking Marlboro cigarettes
This is
hope to one day
Pretty promises to teach the tender child
To welcome madness every Monday
Beck and call
It didn't seem to matter at all
Beck and call
You
Irmão, pila esse beck
ouve esse som, te deixa leve
hoje a missão é entrar no game
sem uma conclusão
só a caneta na mão
e a rima no pente.
[VXII]
York, LA, and everybody inside
DM Kanye, Matt Healy, or Haim
and if you’re at Clandestino by the end of the night,
You’ll know, you’ll know, you’ll know
Bad bitches, few of them
Clip extended, few of them
Them sticks, we got a few in here (aye, yeah)
Them niggas looking, who is them?
Murder, I
Go by the name of Weezie F.
An fuck 'em out the belly store with ten bags?
Fly as a muthafucka girly on my staple
'Cause her friends say I'm a tummy
-girls that pop and lock
They're able to rock the spot, passers by that stop and jock
Cats that come to a hip-hop spot
without feelin the need to cop
with me in a cardboard box
See all these bitches coming baby loyalty is real
Besides a few mishaps the loyalty is there
Coming by the fires baby
I fell asleep on the train
With the towering mountains rolling by
And woke to the sound
Of thunder crashing in the sky
The air was ghostly blue
of straw and
patient animals standing around. The mother nods by the side
of the child. Suddenly she wakes from her lightish doze, sees
them, shrieks
passes by, it passes by.
And it passes by, it passes by.
Time heals all wonders
after only a few years.
Time heals all wonders
after only a few years.
to go hard (when i get it in)
Bout to swipe a few cards (when i get it in)
Might snatch a few broads (when i get it in)
Ain't got time for no frauds (when
I'm gonna tap a few chicks
I'm gonna have a new hit
Gonna crash a few whips
Down in Massachusetts
Its some magic music
There gon have to do flips
I
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