Lyrics:
from this, our education lacks co-ordination.
Though we're young and tentative
And rather rip-representative,
Scions of a noble breed,
We are
from this, our education lacks co-ordination.
Though we're young and tentative
And rather rip-representative,
Scions of a noble breed,
We are
from this, our education lacks co-ordination.
Though we're young and tentative
And rather rip-representative,
Scions of a noble breed,
We are
from this, our education lacks co-ordination.
Though we're young and tentative
And rather rip-representative,
Scions of a noble breed,
We are
from this, our education lacks co-ordination.
Though we're young and tentative
And rather rip-representative,
Scions of a noble breed,
We are
from this, our education lacks co-ordination.
Though we're young and tentative
And rather rip-representative,
Scions of a noble breed,
We are
Come all you scions of old time Berlin
With nights of intolerance soon to begin
Feel the lights dim
After the rally's done wolf becomes faun
stubs
Emerging from both of my sides
And I can tell from the look in your eyes
That the terror won't subside
But you just wait til I am done
'Cause
as hell you're bound to tell
That no matter how hard you rub
You just ain't a-gonna find it on your ticket stub
No, and it ain't in the rumors people're
you behind
And see through the grind
And stay true to rhyming but
Due payments find me
Too lazy dining
Too finely for my stubs
Fuck
I'm too tiny for
what I'm on
A diamond in the rough, like Simon
I could never crawl deep enough
I rhyme on any beat, wrap it like a python
I just need a pair of matching
a pair of matching bygones
I could turn an icon into a collection of ions
Byron, young lord with a Nikon
Gram hoes stepping out, only nylon
Who's your
little stubs
Emerging from both of my sides
And I can tell from the look in your eyes
That the terror won't subside
But you just wait til I am
stubs
Damnit I'm proud to buy my own bag to fill my dutch
Planted my own seed now a month without bud
Granted I got the fee and we don't pump the same
A pair of stockings, a pair of shoes
A record by The Moody Blues
A bottle of Chanel No. 5
A poster of a band called Dead or Alive
A silk negligee
lanes on
I Hit the box but I never bring them Thangs home
Titties out rollin up my blunts
Ima face them
Rezquizit shit
All cash fuck a pay stub
A lot
teeth house.
The holy man piously placed his ticket stub on Dino Sore’s outstretched tongue, saying...
FATHER BILL:
Take this, Dino Sore, and use it,
wouldn’t you know how it go
All my pockets fat
Every pair i put away there goes another stack
All the love I ever gave is in a plastic bag
Love the money
it
My style consists of various wild flavors
I spit lines that linger on your taste buds
I'm paid in full you can check my pay stubs
Started with
I said turn that fucking bass up
Million Dollar pay stub
I ain't gonna say much
Say less
Badder than every single rapper on your playlist
Oops, shots
Scraping away at the paint, chipping the maize hues
Off of the Mustang, hatred in my envy
Light a fire, strike it higher, lay flush and empty
Pay stub
not a pair of Dockers
Waka Flock a, flames when I'm in the booth
Man I thought I told you niggaz I am the truth
On my Big shit, just give me the loot
I
down the Bongo-go
Do the swim, the stub and the frug
Dancing to 'Never gonna give you up'
And she doesn't know she's on my mind
I'll never be
to tell
That no matter how hard you rub
You just ain't a-gonna find it on yer ticket stub
No, and it ain't in the rumors people're tellin' you
And it
.jpg/227px-Au_Pairs_(band).jpg "The Au Pairs")
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