Lyrics:
do the marks of the beast imagine a vain thing?
When they should kiss the Lord Almighty
And rejoice with trembling.
His Foundation is in the Holy
on the brakes so quickly, or at least the proverbial breaks in my mind. Cause everything went screech
No Elizabeth, you want to be a singer. You and everybody
(Intro: Mark$man)
Give a fuck a bout a bitch
Diamonds on my wrist yeah yeah
(Chorus: Mark$man)
Fell in love with the paper give a fuck about
or a children's pastor, what's it gonna be?
Now think about it, what do you want it to be?
Probably a singer, or a football star? But by yourself, you can't get
to play the guitar
so I could stay out late and drink
But now this band is causin' me
To really have to think
It's hard to be a cowboy in B-flat
Outvoted by
I tried
MARK
Fade in on Mark
Who's still in the dark
ROGER
But he's got great footage
MARK
Which he's cut together
ROGER
To screen tonight
There's a deeper wisdom in the singer's eyes, a life shaped by the road
His voice is raspy, he never got fame, and his face looks a little worn
It's more
punch counter, in bunches out of anger
I once encountered a stranger in a dumb gown
Black hoodie with a scythe, I laughed in his face, spit
Bi- gave me
as I punch counter, in bunches out of anger
I once encountered a stranger in a dumb gown
Black hoodie with a scythe, shit, I laughed in his face, spit
Ready for murder hebbz, I heard you Had an itchy finger
A few c-notes will hold their breath Longer than an oprah Singer
Hop in the civic I've been
honey come on in" - female singer
That they baby girls know, we ain't forget about you word up
She understand my hustle, and the black man family
wife and home
Guy that showed right before the set from work, tell by his clothes
The girls that snapping photos of the band with highest hopes
Let me smoke a blunt right now and get in my zone
Akademiks said Freddie Gibbs got beat up by Jim Jones (word)
I'm not a big fan of his the streets
the drugs in my veins
(yeah) pop two Xans, now she wanna give face
I got bands that I wanna go waste (Skrrt)
Friday's here, so don't be shy
Take me higher
Some come by bus some come by train
Some come by boats and some by plane
Some come to teach some come to learn
Some a come to rob rape and plunder
Give the singers half a chance and they'll sing and dance through the night
Lend an ear, please
And the band will play the things you'll want to hear
your dreams
And I said nothing at all
But I wanna be a dancer, I can't dance
I wanna be an astronaut, no chance
I wanna be the singer in a pop band
Ob-La-Di, ob-La-Da
Life goes on, whoa
La, la how their life goes on
Desmond has a barrow in the marketplace
Molly is the singer in a band
Ob-La-Di, ob-La-Da
Life goes on, whoa
La, la how their life goes on
Desmond has a barrow in the marketplace
Molly is the singer in a band
Ob-La-Di, ob-La-Da
Life goes on, whoa
La, la how their life goes on
Desmond has a barrow in the marketplace
Molly is the singer in a band
minute mark of this song. Radio stations may begin your fade here. For
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{Fade}
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the three-and-a-half
Minute mark of this song. Radio stations may begin your fade here. For
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{Fade}
life
I don't know, on my life
Yo, nigga check the stacks, check the results
We in your top five by default
I swear to God we're putting UK rap
giving head down in Soho
I wasn't really there, but Johnny
He told me so
I wanna be Mark E. Smith
I got my act down, I got the riffs
I'll form a band
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