Lyrics:
Days Of 49
~~~~~~~~~~
Im old tom moore from the bummers shore in that good old golden days
They call me a bummer and a ginsot too, but what cares
Follow me down
Follow me down
Follow me down
By Mr Tom Hughes, ooh
My mama told me
My lil' sister too
"Women down the street, sonny
Gonna be
burst in the door
And started whoopin' her ass worse than before
They first were divorced, throwin' her over furniture (ah)
It's the return of the "ah,
burst in the door
And started whoopin' her ass worse than before
They first were divorced, throwin' her over furniture (ah)
It's the return of the "ah,
I'm old Tom Moore from the bummer's shore in that good old golden days
They call me a bummer and a gin shot too, but what cares I for praise ?
I
request
The night gets wet
Spontaneous shootouts
Niggas bring out the heat in the chilly Buffalo streets
Lyin' bodies all over the concrete
This is
burst in the door
And started whoopin' her ass worse than before
They first were divorced, throwin' her over furniture (agh)
It's the return
Houses of the holy
Was an album by led zeppelin
I bought it on eight track
Not on cd
Fades out in the middle
The way an eight track's s'posed
a fuck, say you could run that shit back
And fuck your loud pack, and fuck your Snapchat
Cherry Bomb, the greatest fuckin' album since the days of sound
brother
Gotta get through me to get to him
Gotta get through me before you get to Em
Ain't drop an album yet
Already 'bout to hit a M
It's gettin' spooky
the shade of lava out the bottle, like a genie
Served buffalo wings by bitches in bikinis
Oxycontin cocktails with bellinis
Over pizza pie we think on those
Buttoned up, Tom Ford
Head stay on a swivel, they want your boy in a morgue
But fuck 'em, I want a war
Butt fuckin' 'em slow, raw
Pertaining only
Wow, I can't believe this motherfucker Logic's making me do this right now
So I came over, we were supposed to watch 500 Days of Summer
Um, I
Three passports, Three first class tickets to the money
Straight flights
I live by the cold war
Drove from round the globe
All I need is
walking with a solo swag
You think you ballin' in that four do' Jag? Nah
In Tom Fords with a MK bag? nah
Give you a bird's eye view of the streets
Nigga,
Put the pillow over your face to muffle it
When we kill you
Like buffalo,skinned by indians
We'll watch you suffer slow
On a trestle cut muscle vessels
know we used to argue but you'll always be important
Don't cry for me
Looking out the window, flying over Miami
Art Basel prolly poppin' but I'm
think I'm onna ufo
Doing shows overseas, in Tokyo
Imma wild nigga, like ah Buffalo
Can't tell me shit, I'm da ceo
Bad bitch ride me, like ah rodeo
Not cho
run it down like Tom I'm petty bitch
Time is up you done get buried bitch
And I hop out after I write the song
Steppin over haters, Iverson
Hottest out
a million uncreative rappers tryin to be me
I'm startin to feel like Jimi Hendrix
When they covered the story who started rock
Magazines put blankets over
of my lasso
Money bag in my pants tucked in like fat rolls
Any Tom dick Harry can get it
Bubba gets scary Buffalos with it
Once we get started we ain’t
off like a target
Gettin beat down by an mc shartin
Now labels sellin your album in major markets
But nobodies bought it
You lost it when you thought
when I'm touring
I don't Ford Explore it, push the Lamborghini Urus, I can assure I floored it
Nigga your bitch think I'm gorgeous
My Tom Fords is
real
Confident of your lyrical content, having mass appeal
Less promotional airplay getting jerked by bootleggers
Having classic albums, not platinum
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