Lyrics:
say her name
Rekia Boyd, say her name
Rekia Boyd, say her name
Rekia Boyd, won't you say her name
Latasha Walton, say her name
Latasha Walton, say
on the streets but I'm telling you man it's probably rougher at home
He's been hearing your pretty voice in his head since he was fifteen years old
Oh Walton
Oh
Rabi-ti-ti-ti-ti-ti-ti-ti-ti-tit
Jesus Christ, mi nice
Hear mi now star, hear mi now
So, fix up a slow, up like a dove
Said, at di Walton you have
banken
Jeg stabler flus som Jim Walton
Og panserne tror at de fange dem
Jeg alt for aktiv kald mig Dalton
Ja han fanger bar' en sag
Ja vi rammer top en dag
Yo I got enough opium to kill sultans
I'm trying to relax with chill dolphins
cnd expound out upon the universe like Bill Walton x2
I peel off them
This one's for you mrs walton
my love for you is like the most stinky pepper
your face reminds me of exciting flamingos
together we are like
a chair?
Stop playin' with that man
Where was niggas at when
Walton wasn't playin' fair?
Yeah, stop playin' with that man
Stop, stop, yeah, stop playin' with
Mississippi
Down in Mississippi
Down in Mississippi
Where the blues was born
Wade Walton's barbershop, backroom booze
Shave and a haircut, lots
then
Well im retarded now
Cali born
Fort Walton Beach Panhandle child
Bout to put some perms in
I lost my pullouts
How you have two kids?
You ain't pull
we owned,
On Walton Way, we loved that place.
Then we built this one on land
That we both chose.
And here’s a pic of all of us
With smiles on ev’ry
VERSE
He's a little bit Waltons with a dash of Dallas
Says,""home may be humble but it's our palace""
Chores around the house sweeping the yard
well about heartbreak
An everything in between
This album is a compilation of songs
Written and produced by artists Kurt Danger
And Bradley Walton
From
Mississippi
Down in Mississippi
Down in Mississippi
Where the blues was born
Wade Walton's barbershop, backroom booze
Shave and a haircut, lots
Walton
Jeder hier ist mies angeekelt
Du gehörst nicht ans Mic
Sondern in Quarantäne
Nein, ich will kein Age
Bring' mir meine Papes
Denn berührt man diese
to offer
I’m the hottest on the market
Check my-Self Out while I’m beating you
Goodnight, Mr walton this is the
Only time I’m greeting you here’s a thought
Got a swollen face and now dollar chase at a smaller rate
While I plot on a wad of pape like the Walton's safe
A lot of rappers buried when the patterns
for Walton's five and dime
Am I the last of my kind?
Am I the last of my kind?
I tried to go to college but I didn't belong
Everything I said was
Out while I’m beating you
Goodnight, Mr walton this is the
Only time I’m greeting you here’s a thought
Stop changing your damn layout
Every couple days!
I just wanna touch a mil like I'm Walton Bitches fake, she wearin' fuckin' rubber like a condom
Got a Cuban link around my neck, it's floodin' like
YOU DON'T KNOCK
Writer W. Westbrook and C.A. Walton
You don't knock you just walk on in the door to heaven's inn
There's love and joy for you
doc out of oil
Fire thrown to the roof of you apartment
Hit 95 then I hide with the waltons
Down south, the forty-four feela
I'm a dolo nigga, you
flags on the end
C. Walton, Stacey Adams, five-oh-one
That shit was fascinating
The Miles Davis of gangbangin' and crack slangin'
Drivin' a fresh
take you back
To that haunted railway track
To waltz with his ghost, down in Walton
So you feel her pain
For her sons tortured name
And the murder
people, that's a poor man's dream
Hey Mr. Walton
Lend me a dime
You know I'll repay ya
But it's gonna take me some time
I'm standing at the crossroads
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