Search results for 'some mothers son by bill whelan' Page #33

Beautiful Black mothers, you raised so many of us
They built abortion clinics by your house to take you from us
Beautiful Black fathers, I know your back

for my mother's son
Only got one brother, so I'm talking bout the other one
Trying to keep it friendly with these people getting cumbersome
Y'all

Goin' by the Book

Johnny Cash

Fifty Years of Country Music from Mercury

1995

the East
There's a rumblin' in the ground and they're talkin' about the beast

Good mothers cry 'cause the rivers run high
With the blood of too many sons

Day 1

The Lost Boyz

Love, Peace & Nappiness

1997

Tah you be getting high 
And that's, no mother, fuckin lie 
Until the day I die, I'ma always puff lye
Niggaz, take care of people, still some tough

Move On

Sadat X

No Better Way

1996

say up to this point.
My reputation is at stake, this where the men are mad
Separate, me from the sons put me with the big guns.
My energy now

change that
(C Notes by the layers, true fucking players)
(C Notes by the layers, true fucking players)
(C Notes by the layers, true fucking players)
(C

"Ms. Jenkins"

A lot of tears shed over what you been through,
A mothers pain pays, for what her kid do,
As Bryan life fades, in the rear view,
You

Neter in a love letter
Dove tears in the inkwell for a dove feather
I make a dovetail when I spread the bills, blood money
Heard blood sells, said it

Chill where you been at I’m like bitch why don’t you chill
I’ve been getting money trying to pay all of my bills
They say that I’m sleep well I’m

some strings like a puppeteer
Anyways, I'm wavy
He said babe you thick like gravy
They my sons, so I'm acting shady
You couldn't touch my crown if you

to the maximum
Wait 'til my grip get's traction son
Get loose like a juice on me
Emcees wishin' I come along and drip it some
Yeah, me is my persona hotter
Than

Who said we ain't shiiit bruhh!
(Ain't nobody gon step on my nigga)
U don't wanna shit on ylo bruhh
(Yo we on some 27 shit)
Tryna get the racks up

57 Channels (And Nothin' On) [There's a Riot Goin' On]

Bruce Springsteen

Human Touch

1992

I bought a bourgeois house in the Hollywood hills
With a truckload of hundred thousand dollar bills
Man came by to hook up my cable TV
We settled

accepted defeat
Who took sons from mothers and fathers from memory
Who payed with blood for serving their country
Its the uncommon valour of soldiers

often followed closely by these tears of sorrow
Check in on your happy friends
Trauma don't discriminate
Sighs of many mothers
Daughters go through raping

You are now tuning in for some Orange county west coast shit!
From Anaheim baby! 
Shout out to la free drakeo!

I ain't no fake rapper
No fake flexer

Heaven is home Heaven is home
Walking with Jesus is sweet down here
But heaven is home

I visited my mother's grave in my mind last night
It was dark

gone
Our Lester's gone from our home
That's what his mother cried
The phone smashed on the floor she knows where her son lies

His room's the same

people I'm trying to rise
Out the gutters, no we don't have gutters
We have dirt roads walked bare foot by our mothers

On a daily basis, tears on my

break you

Mother told me to stand up
Boy you rise, don't you be afraid
And if life gives you lemons
Then just make you some lemonade

And don't give in

We're gonna take this, opportunity
To play some old time songs
We got a lap-trap on the off-beat
And a bass drum on the on
Stars over 45, we're gonna

it's all about to end
But before I go, say hello to my little friend
But I gots to make it right, reconcile with my mother
Try to explain to my son, tell

the ghost, too confident to be cocky to keep it real
We veto that phony shit and block it like a bill
Whether Bobby by the pound, or Whitney by the ki
We

The lemmings push their pens and rush
In hoards of crashing stupor
Towards the farms of Babylon
To scramble mother nature
Where unrelenting drudgery