Lyrics:
shots and turn into the purge Know that boy is not a gangster, his ass is a thern He claim from the city, boy, that boy is from the birds Get it lo, than,
Thern old bad dreams Been sleeping in your bed And them old dark clouds Been hanging around your head But all your hard times Will vanish in the wind
down and gun them down Who are you to Judge them and to Put thern to shame and scorn. Wanted children, crying from the Backbone of their fathers Wanted
crawled upon her hands and knees To see what it could be. Then to the bells, wi' a' her micht Sae loud she made thern ring. Till faith! l thoeht aboot my
And it was rainin' this mornin' It was rainin' this mornin' It was rainin' this mornin' And I feel as low and lonely as the rain. Now thern't no roof
dudes face with peppermint Man, 'cause I put thern on 'em Every start, put the whole 9 on 'em Every spark, now the dirt land on 'em Who's my bad found
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