Lyrics:
(Who is you?)
(You ain't nobody)
Every time you hear that nigga that's us (twenty- twenty-four)
Hustle
Hustle
Me and my niggas relate by blood
I been in the water with the sharks, I was in the jungle, Ready to rumble
Throw it Im catching I'm playing my part
Hanging with the animals eat or be
wonders
Show me your magic, your thunderstorms
A beautifully warm, plucked by the spark
That rumbles the harp
Played by the strings of your heart
motherfucker
Play by play wont fumble
Chopper just waiting to tumble
Me and yo bitch in a rumble
Breaking the dash in the Hummer
Yeah but momma told me stay
hands up (maybe it's the thug in me)
By age thirteen I was buckwild, good at my knuckle game
Made it through a tough childhood, never be the same
the rumble and the roar
As she glides along the woodland through the hills and by the shore
Hear the mighty rush of the engine hear the lonesome hobos call
the rumble and the roar
As she glides along the woodland through the hills and by the shore
Hear the mighty rush of the engine hear the lonesome hobos call
ready to rumble
I don't wanna do it but people be funny s3 wodiab3wor diaa kanewu
Kanewu kanewu obaanye ots3mi gbee naabu kanewu ngb3n33 mahwie ja ofo
getting faster, by the way
You look so calm
I felt my legs marching, towards you
Won't you stay?
Time fills the clock
His punches rumble where he lay
[Chorus]
Pink cookies in a plastic bag, getting crushed by buildings
Pink cookies in a plastic bag, getting crushed by buildings
I'll take 30
coal miner all of my life. Layin' down track in the hole.
Gotta back like an ironwood, bit by the wind. Blood veins blue as the coal. Blood veins blue
Have you heard of one Humpty Dumpty
How he fell with a roll and a rumble
And curled up like Lord Olofa Crumple
By the butt of the Magazine Wall
There is a rumble in the sky and
All the world can hear it call
They shudder at the fury
Of the mighty Thunderball
The power of her engines, now
Has
It's way up in the Black Hills where we come from
There's a girl and she warned me don't pick up that gun
By the law of the land
By the promise
hands up (maybe it's the thug in me)
By age thirteen I was buckwild, good at my knuckle game
Made it through a tough childhood, never be the same
on my back initiated in blood
Bout it niggas start fightin' when I walk in the club
You could tell I'm a soldier by my army fatigues
And you could
and tall and handsome
And loved by one and all
She's a modern combination
Called the Wabash Cannonball
Chorus:
Oh listen to the jingle
The rumble
From the great Atlantic ocean
To the wide Pacific shore
From the queen of flowing mountains
To the southbelt by the shore
She's mighty tall
Hanging on, hanging on, hanging on by a thread
Hanging on, hanging on, hanging on by a thread
Hanging on, hanging on, hanging on by a thread
Unwashed
mental
Weakened by its own creed oh its
How did you not crumble, Wilhelmina?
When the forces started to rumble
What was hidden under your demeanor?
Will
of violence, Underneath The Silence
[HOOK]
Mental mental infiltrate
Weakened by its own creed own creed
Mental mental infil- mental
Weakened by its own creed oh
The act of makin love...is...
[REFRAIN]
pink cookies in a plastic bag, gettin crushed by buildings
pink cookies in a plastic bag, gettin crushed by
me?
(Put me in that motherfucka)
Yeah that type of shit
You know what time it is
Maybe it's the thug in me
By age thirteen I was buckwild
Good at my
we're headed straight for hell
I'm goin' home, gonna load my shotgun
Wait by the door, and light a cigarette
If he wants a fight, well, now he's got
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