Lyrics:
and I blow your mind
They got a rhythm and the flow divine
But no surprise, I win
You better close your eyes
And now the battle's won, bitch
Your soul is
set free, by Me
You're so close to being set free, by Me
As Power of Attorney, I'm asking for a log of all your calls to me
I've made my position
control of my thoughts and emotions
I am grateful for my unique qualities and talents
I release negative self-talk and embrace positivity
I am surrounded by
lucky, my God! Flight of Icarus in those grubby dirty by now horribly sticky little fingers and
hands and grubby palms, and oh what else is grubby, I don't
feels so fine
I can be your version of home
Driving out this city alone
There's no space in your heart it's so cold
I clear my vision
I keep my distance
I
gotta school y'all to the game (one, two, one, two), you know what lets talk to em, Lets go!
(Joe Budden)
Them wolves is out nigga
(Ransom)
much I miss you
All I do is reminisce of the love that we used to share
Can't recover from your kiss because nothing else compares
Ain't no
and they missed, bitch
Ain't had no luck
We gon' get back in the Corolla
556 hit a Tahoe, flip it over
He think it's a brick but I hit it with soda
Drywall
like our names was Joe Namath
Jetsettin' no roleplayin'
They ancient but we come with Elder Scrolls
They not the shooters, better shake a leg
Stop
A FINE WAY TO GO
WRITERS CAROLE KING, TONI STERN
RECORDED BY B.J. THOMAS
He makes love to her every night
And you know this ain't no lie
She makes
off
By the realest MC, and that's me
Joe Crack the Don, I came from the streets
Knee deep in the game, other half in the streets
I got that permit
be
Close to you
Close to you
Close to you
I just wanna be
Close to you
Close to you
Close to you
I don't care if nobody else is around
Captivated by
gotta school y'all to the game (one, two, one, two), you know what lets talk to em, Lets go!
(Joe Budden)
Them wolves is out nigga
(Ransom)
calls as if no one were
Home
We'd rather not be bothered, content to live off bread alone
See, our appetites have been altered by a world we made our own
old story, guts and no glory
They try and low ball me, do em like Joe Torre
I reintroduce myself to the world, nigga I'm Jerz
I'm a artist, I paint
sit up in this
Bitch and not eat he was like
"I don't give a fuck what
You're mad about, we cooking no matter
What, nigga come on man, let's eat!"
at this Joe dude
And think about soul food
Ever since Big Pun died
Homie ain't have no clue
We 'spose to be friends man
Thought we was cool
Yeah I smoked
inside, yeah yeah
Holdin' you close, holdin' you tight,
Cause I know by the end of the night
I'll be inside, yeah yeah
I ain't got no time for games, uh
It's the brown child, better version of the story
Sees Conji, a sister, mother played by Tori
In Astoria, kid named Tiki took the cake
The greens
fault
When I'm the one in pain
I just wish that you could call me by the proper name
My name is Joe
Yeah, I'm a hoe
But that shit don't define me
I
line
There's no "Baby you're fine I want to make you mine"
'Cause Honey was offended by the pick up line
Well excuse me
Well excuse me
Well
versions of Feeding of the 5000
By jerks whose only fuck off to the system has been one off the wrist?
It's the Feeding of the 5 Knuckle Shuffle.
*
If
Champagne by the cases
I dont know what the name is
Tonight is a celebration
Flutes overflow wasted
Fruit for decoration
These the dreams I be
call Him or Abba
Language different the spirit but it ain't no Rasta
Leaders of the pack
Supercharged by the super man, we ain't talkin soljah boy, He
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