Lyrics:
stuck by my side when
This shit was getting rough
Lifted my spirit when I felt like giving up
Protect her with my life I
Won't let her get touched
If you
it
Land taken by forced enslavement
Renamed and paved with hatred
This bitch has been blatantly racist
Our hands up, you still shoot
We can't breathe.
I'm gassed up
Lifted on a one way
I'm back up
Knew I'd make it one day
Way back when I was just a child
Me and my bro we would be runnin wild
But now
shoes on the whip
My nigga hit me with the latest, greatest
He told me get inside the whip so I can know just what the up to date is
He said he fuckin
and a life of being piss poor
Onesies sliding up and down the hallway on the 6th floor
Note in my hand, borrowing cooking oil from Miss Moore
Kicking
adrenaline
I know you want more
Mirrors shakin' in the doors
Crankin' up the Justin Moore
Beer by the case
Comin' out of Lewis Country Store
Rebel flag hat,
off the bar quick, lifted it up and said
"Here's to you sucking my dick"
Walk up in the party with our guns drawn
Might just leave a body on your
like we see it?
Appalled at our own achievements
Applauded by enemies and made fans of our disbelievers
Damn, I'm a different breed, lift my hands
surrender
With all my heart I sing Your praises
My hands are lifted in expectation
With out a doubt no hesitation
My hands are lifted in sweet surrender
Ain't
or whether I'm true
But as she lifted her petticoat easy and slow
I rolled up my sleeves for to buckle her shoe
Get up and work from five until five
When
the mud but now I'm clapping the dirt off my hands
Point me to the plug I need some power Ms. Angie Valdez
Bugs bunny how he club hopping to get him a dance
and rented dream and get you followed by the feds
Cause this life is like a lottery, a loser then you'll probably be
Living with the ghost, like Debbie Moore
out like I was Tanqueray
'Cause you're my fella my guy
Hand me your Stella and fly
By the time I'm out the door
You tear me down like Roger Moore
like I was tanqueray
'Cause you're my fella, my guy
Hand me your stella and fly
By the time I'm out the door
You tear me down like Roger Moore
I
out like I was Tanqueray
'Cause you're my fella, my guy
Hand me your Stella and fly
By the time I'm out the door
You tear men down like Roger Moore
coming with
Getting high
Coming in a cadillac 85
You always got some shit
Step up my nigga or get out my way
Got shit to be living got no time to waste
will never run away
You forever shine
You will never run away
You're by my side
Hearts open wide
Hands lifted high
Over the clouds up into
guitar flashy, like my old country greats
And im about tru lovin, i aint about that hate
I get by with with I got and I aint askin around
Shoes glued
slow on my command
This is your captain speaking baby god damn
You fly my plain ass when you do that wit your hand
Speed it back up you pleasurin your
you, I'm not that kind to say that
I spent my lights in the streets with beef crooks
shook cats get lifted off thier feet with heat
nobody loves, you can
Ayo where's my huh I mean, where's my date?
‘Cause if it is today
I see sunshine, I want to play
Fill up my shoes, pit stops Sunoco
Yo mister with
the streets whip cost three thirty five
Malcolm X get your hand out my pocket
Some niggas walking with death guess they ran out of options
Tell them niggas we
[Q-Unique]
Fully equipped with a mic and a spray can
I withstand any wicked plan conjured by a wicked man, the quicker handle
snatch up rhyme Arsonist Q spark
Thurston: Welcome back to 120 minutes!
I'm Thurston Moore from Sonic Youth
Your guest host tonight
And my first guest tonight is Beck!
Camera pans
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