Lyrics:
tellin' us it ain't gon' rain
So now we sittin' in a drop-top, soakin' wet
In a silk suit, tryin' not to sweat
Hit somersaults without the net
But
tellin' us it ain't gon' rain
So now we sittin' in a drop-top, soakin' wet
In a silk suit, tryin' not to sweat
Hit somersaults without the net
But
tellin' us it ain't gon' rain
So now we sittin' in a drop-top, soakin' wet
In a silk suit, tryin' not to sweat
Hit somersaults without the net
But
man tellin' us it ain't gon' rain
So now we sittin' in a drop-top, soakin' wet
In a silk suit, tryin' not to sweat
Hit somersaults without the net
and recorded by the Dorsey brothers
Orchestra in 1934 and 35
(10) The Piccolino: Dance tune by
And featured in Top Hat
(1935) where Fred Astaire danced
It with
tellin' us it ain't gon' rain
So now we sittin' in a drop-top, soakin wet
In a silk suit, tryin' not to sweat
Hits somersaults without the net
But
broke em all down and we all got high
And niggas don't be trippin don't be doin no drive-bys
Cause we don't gangbang, don't wear blue or red
We like
the 40
He gone get rowdy
And ya don't want that shit
Cause it's gon' be naughty, by nature
Fuck a player hater
I'mma come through
And you know I'm down
the 40
He gone get rowdy
And ya don't want that shit
Cause it's gon' be naughty, by nature
Fuck a player hater
I'mma come through
And you know I'm down
a Harley (oh shit)
I'm just tryna to smoke a blunt, no Bacardi
Doin' a buck eighty in my new 'Rari (vroom)
Roll up, spark up, like I'm Bob Marley
Get high
you hear is Beep
And Im comin down swangin
Comin down, let the top up its fixin to rain
And Im comin through and Im steady sittin sideways
My way, have
getting blowed
Eventually I might have to hit the dispensary
Buy a couple pounds
I’ll be high for a century
Soon as I step in the DJ mention me
I walk by
the Outlawz
Bad Azz representin' the L.B.C. Crew
What you wanna do?
You know how we do it
Time goes by
? puffin on lye
Hopin that it get me high
Got
about you hit 'em with a bar?
'Bout time, you've been spittin' for a minute and a half
Gotta stretch my legs, I'm just sittin' on the charts
People
get me high
Got a nigga goin' crazy
Oh yeah, I feel crazy
Time goes by, puffin' on lye
Hopin' that it gets me high
Got a nigga goin' crazy
Oh
your iPod player
Running in circles on these tracks
Only to roll in a cage and
You crashed like a NASCAR racer
I'm a gargantuan Hall Of Famer
On stage
I'm dodgin debacles like pot holes in Jamaica,
We cut down the weed, bury the paper on dem acres.
Martin had a dream, Bob got high,
I still do both
on the scene with cocktails
One nigga looking for po po, in Forest Hill
Someone looking through windows
The doorbells goes off followed by the pump and gas
I've been sittin' so sideways Don't know which car I'm gon' drive today
Still prayin' for some brighter days House in the hills, that's the hideaway
the Outlawz
Bad Azz representin' the L.B.C. Crew
What you wanna do?
You know how we do it
Time goes by
? puffin on lye
Hopin that it get me high
Got
chicken is what I ate like octic squids
Imagine this
I'm sittin in my room, consumed by loony toons, and sponge bob
I belong in the salty splitoon
This is
Welcome ladies and gentlemen
This is Mark... oh-Who-gives-a-fuck from '93 TV
This is my co-host, Bob Buttafuoco
(Hey hey guys) Yeah yeah yeah
We
I'm dodgin' the barcols like pot holes in Jamaica
We cut down the weed, bury the paper on the makers
Martin had a dream, Bob got high
I still do both
up like a toolkit
Popping that Molly it make me lil uzi
Vertical jumping is highly abusive
Up and away got me high like where zeus at
On top
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