Lyrics:
sit in that old blue chair
From that chair I've caught a few fish and some rays
And I've watched boats sail in and out of cinnamon bay
I let go
Kenny Parker on the
mix!
[Special K]
Yes yes I'm Special K
On New York's Two show on WBDP
This is the brand new one by KRS-One
sang all over the world and has become the Bullock family song that is sung at all major family events.
It's actually a simple song, but when
of optical sewer, release the handle that holds all the
Gates up, puncture the eyeballls, that seep all the muck up,
Read all the books and he people worth
and active verbs pronouns, skewer the sieve of optical sewer, release the handle that holds all the gates up, puncture the eyeballls, that seep all the muck
never been out
My cousin in the pen never been out
I'm 'bout to make it and
Buy lil Jr a penthouse
At 14 saw things that you've never seen
Little nigga
Yeah ah back to that old shit!
For all you fake ass teachers out there
Aiyyo Kris break this shit up!
The type of lyrical terrorism I present
Right now we both know
We're Marina Del Ray
Planes gonna fly away
And you'll be on it
And by this time tomorrow
I'll be singing yesterday
for you
We wanna thank you for being so nice on our last album
It was wonderful the way you accepted it
And tonight we've chosen some of the songs
That
to see that I was wrong, now David sing the song (uh-huh)
[Chorus] - 2X
[Hahz the Rippa]
Yo, aiyyo I sold drugs, sold coke, weed and dope (whattchu
on plates
Let's go to the stables
Where Ray Krebbs is raking straws
Together with Lucy
The best cowgirl of all
What about Anderson?
Oh, Punk Anderson!
He is
Rollin' in a golden Tacoma, the shit's stolen
If that bitch tell on me, I'ma do a fuckin' drive-by in her colon
With my meat, gotta keep it obsolete
Daniels'll keep us merry.
Yes, I've heard of Bobby Sands, wasn't it Emmerdale Farm?
Yes, that's right, he was kicked by a cow, I hope it didn't do him no
We Play What We Want Featuring d'Nessa The Insane Vocal Society, No D'finition Brother Polite, Dontae Winslow & Lucky Peterson
Written by: Bobby Ray
Thank you very much
This next song was written by a man right here in Folsom prison
And last night was the first time I've ever sung this song
Yeah ah back to that old shit!
For all you fake ass teachers out there
Aiyyo Kris break this shit up!
The type of lyrical terrorism I present
famous for claimin' a murder
That he never really did
Yeah tell these people all
The facts here really
How you ran your mouth and
Almost got smacked by
so broke that I’ve been usin’ two old telephones
To finally make some money and hit the studio (Oh)
I’m so broke that I’ll lick that snot of yours from
This for all my fans that say they want that old Vic
I've grown too much to ever be the old Vic
I'm new and improve call me Vic 2.0
Still making
don't touch paper
I might shoot a play and take my bitch to lunch later
By time I hang it up I'll be the GOAT like that one laker
RIP Kobe but brodie I'm
the studio
To be co-produced by George Martin and Jeff Lynne
And Ringo disappointed to find that no one
Needs him anymore except for the vibe
Because he's been
think that they mad
Flipped them off like I passed a cop
Old fashioned nigga had to lynch them off
Always beefing with me what he jealous of
Cause his
Rollin' in a golden Tacoma, the shit's stolen
If that bitch tell on me, I'ma do a fuckin' drive-by in her colon
With my meat, gotta keep it obsolete
a program where i'm trapped in
By old heads that gave up and kids stuck being unhappy
And sitting wasting time, while I get these hands to clapping
I'm here
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