Lyrics:
Arranged by Tom Howard
Hidden Passage Music (BMI)
Vocal Arrangements by Alan Moore
the world ends
With dog me by my side
No words for Bethesda
To describe this way I feel
Tom Howard I think I get ya
Cause with you and her love is real
lost the groove yet
Dodge roll a fake bitch, I know your moveset
Tom Howard wasted, can't even two-step
Verified porker, dick got the blue check
Lambs
guitar bum whose name I never knew
Old School Nashville, Harlan Howard, Bob McDill
Tom T Hall go drink your fill and blow us all away
There was this
energy i want to
Thank: Yatti & Nikki, Sean
Lalla, Brandon, Kwam
Howard & Erin, Cliff Cho
Gilad, Beat Junkies, Beatminerz
Scratch Pickles, Bump Knuckles
Making major moves, might end up in the White House
Get the fuck out my way: playing like Dwight Howard
Pick the pen, write rhymes, that's the lifestyle
My
got him picked
But the man's in trouble
I'mma show you how great I am!
Hold up! Black excellence, I be rappin' it differently, uh
Tell Howard
'Borough niggas
I reached the point where don't shit matter to me, nigga
I reached heights that Dwight Howard couldn't reach, nigga
Prince Akeem, they
Eddie, Mouchie
Robert Jr., Kevin Dalerow, Tim Garret, Jeta, Johnny, LeLe
Junior, Maurice Price, Dwayne Lizard, Johnny Ray, Howard Jr
Keith's mother,
time is slippin'
Howard Beach, Michael Griffin
To Halliburton, Larry Davis
These are the exemples America gave us
Pain inserter, Black converter
Mr
round see, you could find me some
But I kept my tables in the crib when I wasn't in the club
Tom Whit and Mike Shafer used to give me rides
And buy
get slept fool
Bands tussling like Tom Tom
Because they bad news
Breaking the all rules
Or I might TSU
Ima tell ya one one time
The Sigmas really run
sourdough
Growing up I never fit in
Chilling in the outer zone
Things been only getting better
Feeling like I'm Howard Jones
I gotta shine each time I
Step up
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And get ready for the funk when the pot boil
With a dry rag, kerosene, and motor oil
Now the Aryan is scary and I'm runnin' up
Fat Tom better duck when
Warren, Red Dog gon' say hello (Hello)
Back in '94, I trapped out with Shawty L-O (Ooh)
The way that I be flexin', Paul Howard might indict
We jump back
And get ready for the funk when the pot boil
With a dry rag, kerosene, and motor oil
Now the Aryan is scary and I'm runnin' up
Fat Tom better duck when
punk attack
On the black, and now the shit is on.
(Peel his cap and I'm gone!) Oh yeah.
See, now all hell is finna break loose,
And Uncle Tom ain't
Would you like the feeling if it tickled your neck?
Have you got a thing for Tom Selleck?
Would you like the feeling if it tickled your chin?
Have you got
like a dancer
Maybe she from pantheon
The dancers think I got no job
Like Tommy Tom
I'm not there for the hoes I like the lamp chops and the ambience
and FOB
Sugar we're going down eventually
I write sins not tragedies
All my sins made a masterpiece
All my gold like Master P
Tom Hanks the way I put it
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(Yeah)
(Yeah)
(Who)
(Alright)
Ayy, rollin' up fast to the party (yeah)
Black Hawk Down like I'm Tom Hardy (yeah)
Smellin' the gas
Livin' too fast
told em
used to wanna whip the range
now thinkin foreign like immigration lawyer
paint it white like Tom Sawyer
see me stunt and it feel like torture
.jpg/227px-Tom_Howard_(cropped).jpg "Tom Howard")
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