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his face

He said, "others may come and the others may go
But that suit will be around wherever you're goin'"
Three button hand me down
Three button
a map and take a trip down south
Come on over to Houston Texas welcome to the Swisha House
It's the land of the trill
I'm coming live from the block
I
[Hook 2X]

[Verse 3: Tech N9ne]
Jelly sickle
Look at how that jelly trickles
Down his elbows
And you can smell those
Playa haters from Calabassas
by somebody that still live with they mama
But that's the only way she know, to get away from all the drama
As for books, the mind is a terrible thing
that I never tint
That brain got to be official baby, no artificial intelligence
I’m runnin in it like Andre, if y’all ain’t from Houston I ain’t
them down that boulevard I
Treated them like queens took em all the places that they wanted to be seen and
When I had to leave em I'd tell with a smile
almost nothing changed
What the hell, what was that for?
(Seems like we don't even care)

Buses are on the way to take those people from New Orleans
And the door is still open to my heart

I must confess that I cry from loneliness
And the door is still open to my heart
You are to me like honey
down doors, although I never break laws
Come to a town that's yours, and I be rippin the whole tour
Comin hard for your section, slow up
Live in
We ghetto, fabulous 
Money make the world go round so let's handle this 
Ghetto, fabulous 
Broadcastin live from Los Angeles 

Nigga Stu-be-Doo in
If you've got a road map of Texas
You can see that it's a wide open state
From Amarillo down to Boulder
You can bet that it's a honky-tonky place
And the door is still open to my heart

I must confess that I cry from loneliness
And the door is still open to my heart
You are to me like honey is
stay in the money,
And five year old whiskey to wash down the dust.

That ain't no hill for a couple of climbers,
That's all we ever intended to be
If you've got a road map of Texas
You can see that it's a wide open state
From Amarillo down to Boulder
You can bet that it's a honky-tonky place
(The door is still open to my heart)
I must confess that I cry from loneliness
And the door is still open to my heart

You are to me like honey
the money
And five year old whiskey to wash down the dust
That ain't no hill for a couple of climbers
That's all we ever intended to be
That ain't no hill
their tunes
Out on the streets and you could hear from inside
Used to take the subway up to Houston and 3rd
I would wait for you and I'd try to hide
may come and others may go,
But that suit will be around wherever you go"
Three button hand me down,
Three button hand me down, ha ha
you want to burn in that ‘roid
We'll be laughing and rolling on the floor
When we hear you screaming through that door

Blast Off at Cape Canaveral
All
robots
Who forgot
Hypnotic in a 
Two thousand by three thousand mile box
Thirty five year olds lost in a x box

Playstation and videos

So that's
to Houston, now we're halfway out the door
Hollering budda-budda-budda-budda-by
Staring out the window
It fells good, it feels nice, it feels like you need
Puttin fingerprints on my bicycle
Walkin up to have a drink at the club ?there is? three Irish chicks
Lookin at me like I'm sick
Walkin by chin-chins I
writing, the mic fighting, respect me
I'm from where it get down, machete your mother
Snatch your brother, scrap you down
You know the deal, when we do
the mic fighting, respect me
I'm from where it get down, machete your mother
Snatch your brother, scrap you down
You know the deal, when we do this,
I'm a stay Sucka Free like my homie Big Mello (R.I.P)
And that's coming straight from me
And I'm still a ghetto boy like Scarface and M-J-B

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