Lyrics:
Created by white men or any other white man
That pretended he originated
And contended that he innovated a jazz thing
Of course we know who can really blow
playing, I turn ya chest into a flesh wound
Ha, you would never guess who in my guest room
Now they saying "just me Tune!"
[Hook]
Tunechi, that what they
This tune, a big tune man, from Falameno Then why they have a wonder what they do? The shit I been through, they don't really have a clue No fool, no
I know a man whose plow handle hand
Is quicker than a light
Wes Hardin is his name
They say he travels in the night
For he might have to kill
Blow! Blow! Blow)
That's ironic (Y yeah! Blow)
Ironic (yeah! Blow! yeah)
Salt all in my wounds
Hear my tears all in my tunes
Let my life loose in this
along, hammers banging to the drums of the song
Covered in grease
The next track will be the one that we want
Aye, No Olivia John
I went over on my data
with taking sole credit
You'd better think again, 'cause I am not gonna let it
So he gets both our last names, and by that same token
Gwan pon it
Gwan pon the tune
Gwan gwan pon the tune
Gwan pon it gwan pon it
Gwan pon it the ting
She's got a body that's a killer
Dope like coke
Pussy AIDS
John Pussy once told me of a place
A little town by the name of Wexford
He claimed there was a casino
Up the road from the Cineplex, yeah
I
This song is a derivative of Child Ballad 44, with a tune by
A. L. Lloyd. It was recorded by John Roberts & Tony Barrand on
Dark Ships in the Forest,
on the seven sea(l)s
Tell me who's that writin'
Tell me who's that writin'
John the revelator
Tell me who's that writin'
Call at him by his name
I been floatin'
could work it out, yeah, you could work it out
It's like that, and a
And we got it like that (like that)
You know we got it like that (like that
could work it out, yeah, you could work it out
It's like that, and a
And we got it like that (like that)
You know we got it like that (like that
Is it John? Is it Sean?
What's the name here that belongs?
No I didn't forget
But were not ready yet!
So come on and sing along!
Wait.. the name is
new tune with a fly banjo"
I can't understand what the problem is
I find it hard enough dealing with my own biz
How'd they get my name and number
without
We go for broke
And run that shit into the ground
Struck by lightning
With a hand in the sand
Came to with a fist fused in glass
Closed
nobody tell Clyde
That the name of this song
Is Sam's Song
It's not Irving's song
It's Sam's Song
It's not even Mona's Song
It's Sam's Song
nobody tell Clyde
That the name of this song
Is Sam's Song
It's not Irving's song
It's Sam's Song
It's not even Mona's Song
It's Sam's Song
a big "Don John"
To pop a few woodies
And make the john last long
Ex, now you can serve that
'cause no doubt it's murda
Ya heard that
Now that you
This song is a derivative of Child Ballad 44, with a tune by
A. L. Lloyd. It was recorded by John Roberts & Tony Barrand on
Dark Ships in the Forest,
Smoking on the za hope the pain go away
And I took L's Now it's M's name
And have working hard top up my Game
If i no make money tel Wetin I again
one does
Me a favour I say obrigada
And de nada
She tried kissing me after
Put back on your Tommy b I want no drama
Hypocrisy cah I got a k by my name
that flashlight on my ass, where was you at
Last night when them assholes ran up on my grass?
Rapper slash actor, kiss the crack of my cracker slash
(Mary had a little lamb)
That's a fib, she had two twins though
And one crib
Now she's only fourteen, what a start
But this defect is ground
-8643.jpg/225px-John_Scofield_(cropped)-8643.jpg "John Scofield")
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