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Search results for 'Filtering Face Piece Respirators'
Yee yee! We've found 14 lyrics and 111 artists matching Filtering Face Piece Respirators.
Artists:
.png/220px-Kelly_Clarkson_-_Piece_by_Piece_(Official_Album_Cover).png "Piece by Piece") |  |  |
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Lyrics:
crib, wrap you up in your Polo sheets Six up in your wig piece, nigga decease Muah!, may you rest in peace With my Sycamore style, more sicker than
Run up in your crib, wrap you up in your Polo sheets Six up in your wig piece, nigga decease Muah!, may you rest in peace With my Sycamore style, more
'em Faces turn bluer than my denim But don't look down though my Name is David Banner Flipping green on the mic cause They can't control my gamma So
it with the basic six TV's a system knocking mase Face it, we hard to hit, guard your shit Before I hit you With your re-up light the P up, licked
Ahem we are here today to mourn the loss Of a punk ass motherfucker who thought he was the shit. Turns out he was the shit a piece of shit.
The doctors had to piece together your face like a collage Niggas always talk breezy till the steel come out And slugs rip through their gums and their grill
white just Like fight night we be weighin' in P.d is ma pieces 20 karats Jesus say amen Tricked of with my new bitch She was half black and Malaysian
read, um bleeding on every page Honestly when I go face the mirror I really see no soul But as soon as I hear the kicks I speak from the soul, turning
a thousand empty stages waiting for their empty performances, A thousand empty faces waiting for their empty stances. How many times must we hear rehashed
Next its gone be martial law Business acting like jigsaw Government telling lies Respirators on our face But nothing covering our eyes I'm really
it ignite Once i mix it with that octane Hit licks off the block chain Cop diamond Rock chain.. No jesus piece Put my face on the blame If hip hops
was aware of possibly getting deported My mask was off and my mask was on My respirator hid my face but my front was gone This is the debut.
Ahem we are here today to mourn the loss Of a punk ass motherfucker who thought he was the shit. Turns out he was the shit a piece of shit.
Gold sun on the blue mountain Dappled clouds thru the bent tall trees Morning climbs the filtering wood Evening descends low to the stream
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