Lyrics:
of the radio by my bed
With Thomas Wolfe whispering in my head
When I was in school I ran with kid down the street
But I watched him burn himself up
runs America
Not your president
There is nothing supreme about
The Supreme Court
Ain't nothing just about Scalia
Or Clarence Thomas
Uncle Tom nigga
see when I get home,
it’s you.
Hook:
Bridge:
“Give You What’cha Want” Written by Troy Harrington, Brian Thomas and Emmanuel Duncan
2015 Brian Thomas
don't belong
We could just move out to the east side
Or the dark side of the moon
Under the blue sky in a riptide
As long as I'm there with you
We
catches You off guard, oh
You're still there (nothing catches You off guard)
You're still there (nothing catches You by surprise)
You're still there
You're still there (Nothing catches You off guard)
You're still there (Nothing catches You by surprise)
You're still there (Nothing catches You off
most on that level
Are as wack as In n out fries
Like Hall n Oates I can't go for that
No can do
If you can there's a good chance that we can't kick it
and love, one ain't over the other nah
If I blow up I don't want no call from ya
There's a reason you in the past that's where I left ya
I do this by myself I
against weapons we work with what we've got
But I saw Thomas a year later in the gutter
He said "There's no war, haven't you heard?"
"I've been living so
an ounce of you double K
Full of Eastern (promised)
Without a doubting (Thomas)
Polynesian Raj Matazz
Nothing older than time nothing sweeter than wine
Mister Thomas Edison, you're dead
For every Frank Sinatra there's a ballroom blitz
But nothing now will ever, ever end
Mister Thomas Edison, still
Honk yo horn as she's walking by right now
Yeah
I need some of that, so fresh out the pack
I'll pop yo cherry like a bottle, take a swing
Bipolar cold, give me the medicine
My chain too bright, no Thomas Edison
When I pull it out, bitch nervous
Better ride this wave bitch, surf it
Girl,
the due that we're granted by law
Is that the freedom Thomas Jefferson saw
Well, ain't it a shame
That we are to blame
When all we're trying to do
Is get
of dollars
Hopping out the 'Rari like Philip Michael Thomas or Collins
Fuck college, made commons over my street knowledge
Everybody eats, now we on shit,
going on for a bit
There's nothing left in my stomach
But guilt and an empty pit
I play out in real-time
Through a screen in my pocket
And I can't even
You're not alone
Together we stand
I'll be by your side
You know I'll take your hand
When it gets cold
And it feels like the end
There's no place
on out I'll be traveling light
Moving on I'll be traveling light
Label Copy
Produced by Wyatt and Thomas
Songwriters: Wyatt Easterling and Eric Bannan
angelicus)
UNCLE WALTER:
The clergyman’s pastoral pager loudly― uh, loudly― uh, uh loudly rang out, echoing through the vacant YMCA halls.
FATHER BILL:
By
MAKE A MOVE
By Big Ace the King
Ft. Queen P, Larry Thomas, LRS
WRITTEN & PRODUCED by ANTHONY THOMAS
INTRO:
YEAH , PUT MY MIC ON-
IT IS TIME
[words & music by Thomas C. Hansen]
It's early in the morning
And the birds are singing high in the sky
I'm watching the sun arise
For the first
And ride around to the liquor store
Can't get a job get drunk some more
You better stop trippin' on them stereotypes
'Cause in the ghetto there's a good
My life nothing but mistakes
Lord when you gonna let me catch a break (ooh yeah)
Told me I was destined to be great
So why they blocking out my lane
the blood like I was
The smell of cape jasmine thru the window screen
John R and the Wolfman kept me company
By the light of the radio by my bed
With Thomas
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