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Allen Thomas

Allen Thomas (December 14, 1830 – December 3, 1907) was a Confederate States Army brigadier general during the American Civil War (Civil War). He was born in Howard County, Maryland, and became a lawyer but he moved to Louisiana in the later 1850s and became a planter and colonel in the Louisiana militia. After the war, he was a planter, Presidential elector in 1872 and 1880, professor of agriculture at Louisiana State University and coiner at the United States Mint at New Orleans, Louisiana. He moved to Florida in 1889. Between 1894 and 1897, he was United States Minister to Venezuela. He moved to Mississippi in 1907 and died there in that year. He was buried at Donaldsonville, Louisiana. more »

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 Become A Better Singer In Only 30 Days, With Easy Video Lessons!

I wrote this in a dream while we was making love
Streets made of gold, the plants was fake as f*ck
Inner voices got me waking up Like, like "we gon get this cake or what?"
I gotta skate ma, but we had an amazing run

Pray to the creator daily, I think I'm his favorite sun
Rays beaming, shades scheming Shine hard even in the late evenings
Though I hate to stunt, that's just my essence I'm that nigga that they hate to hunt
Disses from the sidelines, but you know I can't hate no grunt

Get your pounds up, partner my spirit, weighs a ton
And you couldn't carry it with eight arms Fuckin' with the fam, you need Aflac's
State Farms A defensive line and a QB that has great yards
When I talk my shit, you know they can't pause Fans like, yeah, they had some shit, but it ain't yalls

Hatin, but could never see a nigga like
Ray Charles Yeah, yo, hit the bowl twice like Manute son
It ain't about the dough, sorry, I cannot compute, son
Fuckin' the game, I can see I got a few sons Hey, yo, hit the bowl twice like manute son

It ain't about the dough, sorry, I cannot compute, son
Fuckin' the game, I can see I got a few sons And I always felt I was a good dad, hood dad
Forever showing love but always look mad Black soap, bath salts, kept it straight
After they came at me sideways like a crab walks How things turn left like NASCARs

Subtract the bread, that math ain't adding up I need the flashcards
Said it's the fam, we like the task force Taking time with all my prey
You know your first could be your last course Decatur shorty got them ass parts
Said they been waiting on divine I'ma let y'all know when class starts

Open the pack it smell like gas farts Niggas nowadays went from being test
Dummies to crash darts Looking for the smoke like reverse chimney
Girl, you was the best, but it brought out the worst in me
But would i f*ck again most certainly to get me off my stand, gon' take surgery

Hey, hey, hey, hey, hit the bowl twice like Manute son
It ain't about the dough, sorry, I cannot compute, son
Fuckin' the game, I got a few sons Right

 Become A Better Singer In Only 30 Days, With Easy Video Lessons!