Lyrics:
Colene
And her peaches and cream
It'll give us a shot in the arm
Down at our Uncle John's farm
Rock on the porch swing
By the light of the moon
And all the while
She softly smiles to herself
Daisy is going to hell
John's got a job to do
In never let his lady live it down
To build an immunity
So let it bee what it's gone bee Confusion created
By the woman you dated
Share yo dreams and they hated
But mama we made it
Confusion created by
my face with Chris Rock blues!
The world is run by aliens!
They're coming for your wife!
They're going to take your children!
And they're going
They were gone gone gone ooh
The fox is going round
The fox is going round
The fox is going round
Going round round round
I moved to the city
To an old
going I'm going I'm gone
Third eye open
Expand the vision
Create the world
Like your own legion
I'm not limited by the confines of my mind
I'm not
another
Mama get up early, early in the morning
Papa's already gone
Going out a-working for half of what he's worth now
You know that it's wrong
What
Going home, going home
I'm just going home
Quiet light, some still day
I'm just going home
It's not far, just close by
Through an open door
ain't nothing new
We about the life my nigga, we don't abide by these rules
Make a move then my niggas going to act a fool
Bring a tool if you going do
Yeah
Psych
222
I'm going, I'm gone
I'm on the warning track
Yessir
Yeah
life is the greatest pitcher of all time and he's always throwing
tell you 'bout that lying, need to stop
Siddiq on the beat, I'ma black out
Was gone for a minute, I'm back now
I treat the stu' like a trap house,
Stackin' this guap
Straight to the top
Imma keep going no I cannot stop
Imma keep going I gotta go harder
They tryna stop me cos I got a lot
Flame up
the Breeze'
Mother played by Peter Beardsley, father by John Cleese
Diary entry '68 end of the year
A cardboard Apollo Six has given the all clear
Miss You
(Written by John Redmon)
(Verse I) A few short moments can pass by so fast. Someone tell me how I can make this
can we stop now
I'm on a dream team
It's cool if they sleep now
I need some big rings
Cause by time they wake up
We gone be sky walking
We gon' be way
of these fucking bum rappers gone die
When I tommy gun shoot up they concert with rhymes
Like John Wilkes in the Booth!
Young Seph Nomad
He be the Truth!
Eat my dick Long John
Hop in a Benz and I'm gone
Try and break my bond
I don't fuck with you like Big Sean
Get a buck like 'Bron
Fuck with my team
worry
I will be late, don't stay up and wait for me"
"Say again? You're dropping out, my battery is low
Just so you know, we're going to a place
the ounce, we smoke it by the pound
We be going up, your bitch going down
Hot boxing the booth got bitches passing out
We be going up, your bitch going down
Are you going to be all mine? Oh
Or are you going to waste my time? Oh
Are you good for me baby
Are you going to be by my side
Are you going to be
moving flaky in these streets, I'm trying to stay away
I keep that Glock by my side when I'm going on a play
And I'm gone keep that stick right there if I
fever
Slide on them niggas we hop in a Beamer
Masked up can't see me John Cena
Keep me a chop this a double odd buck
Your hoe is a thot so I don't give
a little chat
Or we could talk on snap
Nobody can touch me
No you cannot talk with me
I'm leaving with Poppin
With her by my side
I'm going for the stars
dead fish he smell like fish sticks
All my niggas do is sell dope and hit licks
They gone blitz blitz but no hitstick
And no john madden them niggas
.jpg/266px-John_Farnham_Live_(cropped).jpg "John Farnham")
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