Lyrics:
hands ima take that back
Big smirk start the patchwork
Now im about to buss a move I’m so happy I don’t know how to act
Watch me go to the floor
And dance
me
So really if we claim now to love the Son
Why we got to segregate Sunday 10-1?
So much to overcome now from what's been done
But if starts with
me away and turn back the years sing me back home before I die
I recall last Sunday morning a choir from off the street
Came in to sing a few old
shit you niggas on
Ludicrous li'l bitch be gone
I ain't amused by your songs
I close my eyes, my soul is feeble
Look inside you hold the key
Fuck
Sunday afternoon
It's a cool breeze
Fall leaves
Fallin' through the window to the front seats
Next to me
Red light
Tell me that she with me for
Yeah (Yeah)
Oh yeah D.Heat you know (Oh yeah I know D.Heat)
They say he don't do that trap shit (Say what?)
Yeah
Finesse me a play then dip out
Sell
came up from nothing, it was never with us
Tell Kai I love her, if they ever get us out of town
Poppin with 11 niggas
You want this cuban, you will
The song's almost over
But the story can't end
Til I tell you 'bout my brother
My friend to the end
Came from Vegas
Sent to save us
SFBICC
Son of a gambler
back to my place
This is your domain
I can tell from your stance
Now I just wanna know your name
Those curves on your body
Got me feeling some type
the one that taught me
How to tie my shoes my ones and twos
That's why I'm so good at
Tying the one and two
You had me looking fresh up in my Sunday suit
together it's the Sunday blues
And I, gotta be up for Monday so I'll tell you the truth
Me and you could be together, but we can't and it's cool
I thought
partner in crime
Ooooh, lalalalala
You could have a strict mother that don’t want me to matter
Tell you not to bother with the monster that snatched you
Always chillin' cause I'm blessed oh
Feel the vibe he wanna dance, told him baby you ain't next, join the line this ain't a mess oh
Pretty dress, Sundays
see
Wouldn't that be a gift, oh so heavenly
The type of gift that might make a
Scrub like me try to believe
I know it's wrong to tell the
World about
my wins
If you were me, would you pray a lot
Please tell me the secrets to surmount the plot
Believe and stand by me, step into my world and see
What
Drink Kirschwasser from a shell
San Francisco show and tell
Well I should know by now
That it's just a spasm
Like a Sunday in T.J.
That it's cheap
to figure you out, boo
This ain’t the first song that I’ve written about you
It’s easy like Sunday morning, slippers and house shoes
But I don’t think I could
devil, evil, Evil songs
Well then I died and went to Hell
I could tell right away by the awful smell
That this was clearly not the pearly gates
The Devil
wanna be by my side
Now I'm not alright
Now I'm not alright
Bitch, this love the lie to me
I'm gonna tell you why
live to collect your doe
Will you tell me somethin'...
Well you work in the woods from morning till night
You laugh and sing and you cuss
And take me away and turn back the years
And sing me back home before I die
I recall last Sunday morning a chair from off the streets
Came in to sing
me up not mixing elixirs
My body won't touch my face looking beat
Like pigs in the sheets the image disgust ew
Praise false idols on a Sunday?
Coogi
Mother Nature rain, in and out we ain't hittin' stains
Back and forth no more growing pains, glorified used to be in our lane
Used to tell me I ain't want
promised
Want better health for my momma
And lean yo tea from you hina
And that's my motha fuckin' goal
Tell 'em free my motha fuckin' woes
Every king need
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