Search results for 'wheat by lisa gerrard'

I didn't expect there to be miles and miles of wheat
Rolling over the hills as we came into the city
The city reminds me of an island
Surrounded by

Benson,
All these bad hoes they start to get tempting,
Keep a yellow bitch like Lisa Simpson,
All these blues in my pocket,
I'm limping,
Ain't that your lil

of his plans to demean my persona
I've got a smile on like I'm Lisa the Mona
Tears fall as my heart is broken and educated
But I flip so His name is spoken

on my meat 
She tastes so sweet 
Is your name Lisa? OOPS
That's the one from last week 

Come to think about it
We were in a Jeep 
They be flockin' 
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