Search results for 'postcard by jordin sparks'

Somebody get Jordin Sparks up in here
Somebody get Jordin Sparks up in here

on The Block (c'mon, c'mon)
Boys II Men (oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah)
Big Freedia (uh huh)
Jordin Sparks (yeah, yeah)
And Naughty By Nature

Its nine o-clock

soon post nobody cheering though
'Nother song about all ya money and women here we go
That's why you goin nowhere
You rappers Jordin Sparks you gettin no

like Splinter Cell no kick door I just crept in
223.'s spark like Jordin now he breathless
How we single but together bitch you selfish
I'm possessive

Traded her for a foreign car, kept in storage, parked
'Til the tires got deflated, no air, like Jordin Sparks
Stripped and sold for her parts like porn

All that I saw in the
Postcard of Positano
So let's not waste any more time
Or waste energy to try and find
Answers to questions we dread
Let them go

ever changes)
I try to assuage and smile
As time passes me by
I send more prayers than postcards (I send more prayers than postcards)
Despite all I lack

just
Like a phone card had to move that bitch so
Far she need a postcard
Then I switched the grill on the Chevy
Got a nose job
Wet lips on the rims: I

Dixon/Maia Sharp
Spark Lark Music / Spark Chisolm Music (BMI) administered by Songs of Kobalt Music Publishing/ Third and verse Boulevard (BMI) / Crooked Crown

rare over by Cherson, Cherson,
we calcify fathers here below
a watery cross, with weeds
entwined
This grins restoredly,
 low sleep
Wave
Oh, no,
shush

William's Heart

Camera Obscura

Desire Lines

2013

A postcard of Byron by the bed
It's a reminder of every word that he said
To die in the arms of a twenty year old
A figure of porcelain with moves

be asked again
Hidden in the folds of time there are

Things to be said in silent voices
And sparks lit up by a glance
So that metronome’s swinging

midnight calls
I get one postcard card a year

She couldn't wait for spring  
She let her hair go long
Burnt all her suits
Bought a dozen thongs

Her place

Reading by palm trees swaying
Writing postcards home about the sound
Two yеars here, I’ve burnеd
Through the bubble

Of wondering when
Trying will feel

Under Pressure

The Herd

The Sun Never Sets

2005

sunken-eyed kid became the life of the party,
Only been in town a term, social life like a soap star,
Still wrote his grandmother the occasional postcard