Lyrics:
We all had to scrap with our uncles and our brothers
Bedroom window, no curtains, used covers
Motherfucker always claim to be the hardest
But these
Accepted en-mass
Don't be fooled by your own folly
Folly, that's all I heard when I've done no wrong
I changed the tune but it's the same song
Can't find
amateur, M,C's
in hip-hop, word up, no bullshit
Oh I ain't done yet
You soft as a newborn baby takin a nap
Make my dick hard with that bitch ass track
Where
got haters in the paper, photo shoots with paparazzi
Can't even take my daughter for a walk
See 'em by the corner store
I feel like I'm cornered off
in the house say Crystal Whipped
With a quick love smack to the back of the head
I got Crystal Whipped, I got Crystal Whipped
Well the years went by
You will come up with 500
Meaning there are at least 500
Shades of the blues for example
There is the Iain't-got-me no-money Blues
There is
parts with his parts out, and
Then he just laid his shit down
And it was great by then went to
'Ye house, played it for him, he
Was like, 'cool' wayne
look like they riding a banana boat
But on they period, I don't want them mislead
So it's a sign by my bed that say "No turn on red"
Treating women
took my steed
And round the bend I saw my friend
Jackson Bailey Davis
Named after a horse
Held my father's shotgun
Typically kept above the fireplace
He
Curtain falls no applause
Your silly face enraged
A holy war
When looking in the mirror
A fun house reflection
Only you see so clear
A sinner playing saint
Jackson (oh), I am for real
Never meant to make your daughter cry
I apologize a trillion times
I'm sorry Ms. Jackson (oh), I am for real
Never meant
the red eye, I said hopped Off of the red eye
Mo-money drop from the red Sky
Like Banks that rob with the Subprime house on fire that's That Left Eye
All
out you ho's huh
TDF is in this bitch sending shouts out
to all you down muthafuckas that was with us from the start
You know what I'm sayin
No sell-out
with backpacks move
Like they try to act like they don't hear it
System bust, I don't rap freestyle no more
Stopped smokin' angel dust
I bring drama
the ratchet at
Coaches had ya back
You could've been in the NBA
Instead of Beasley house with ya
Name on an NDA
Anyway, I was gettin' paper back then
love with a Creole girl,
By the lakes of Pontchartrain.
I said, "My pretty Creole girl,
My money here's no good,
But if it weren't for
never cooks
no time write my book
and in the end I ain’t got nothin’ at all
Time Waits For No One
a year goes by in the wink of an eye
Time Waits For No
cracker a day (what? Oh shit)
Girl, well, I heard the bitch was married to Tim
And started fucking with Trina
Well, I heard the bitch got hit by three
cracker a day (what? Oh shit)
Girl, well, I heard the bitch was married to Tim
And started fucking with Trina
Well, I heard the bitch got hit by three
a hill
And I entered through, the curtain hissed
Into the house with its blood-red bowels
Where wet-lipped women with greasy fists
Crawled the ceilings
(Call us jiggaboos)
And did deals with the Indians
(Wild Coyotes)
Ain't no fuckin body ever did no deals with no black folks
[Chorus]
the curtains
My life will be a B-movie shot by Tim Burton
And if I lack authenticity
Remember authenticity is often shitty
So please, no pity,
You can
an Enzo (hey)
Lambo Aventador S Vert ('Ghini)
SUV, Rolls-Royce with the curtains (Rolls)
Surprise, 30K the Birkin, it's a purse (look)
Niggas cannot
'you know a wise man once said, never judge a book by its cover, always read the whole thing in the bloody book shop and then decide if you wish
Discuss these house with no curtains by alan jackson Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In