Lyrics:
the waitress I was seein' lost her desire for me
I spoke with her last night, she said she won't set herself
On fire for me, anymore
Did you hear the cops
Ladies and gentlemen
This here is another one for the steppers
DJ Wayne Williams put the record on
Whoa oh whoa oh whoa oh whoa yeah
Whoa yeah
wouldn't last long
And I'm sorry I broke
Into your email
But I had to know
There was the one
From Colorado
She thanked you for
The kissing
don't have no time for no "wham-bam thank you mam"
Gas me up, get me drunk and hit, then you scram
The same old shit you pulled last week on Pam
I'm
Letters from the 99
Is a collection of stories
Written by me
Mostly on my drives
Along the California HWY 99
To Los Angeles
This album is real
a publicity stunt? This should be fun
Last album now 'cause after this you'll be officially done
Eminem killed by Eminem
Matthew Mitchell, bi-, I even have
rapper about to blow
But his album came, and it was not good
I think it went lead or double copper-wood
So the silly little fans, they were misled
By
hoping
Broken, starving plastic ring
Perfect for eloping
Years went by fast, you were so good to me
Our children have children, Billy, how could it
buy
My homies rolled by in a bucket, but they ain't short and duckin'
Slappin' n****s known for tellin' b****es f*** it in the late night
"Last
goin on, on and on and on
On and on and on
Yo I've been treading on this globe man for twenty-five joints
Sometimes shaitan got me by the pressure
Intro: Puff Daddy
I'ma make you dance
And we won't stop, cause we can't stop (repeat 3X)
Don't stop
KRS-One
Puff Daddy
Bad Boy remix
Hit me baby
a mack and you turnin
Up the black in you
Skill for skill you the minor we the major
I grade your whole album like
A bad term paper
ZERO, don't be a fan!
And if this doesn't convince you that MUSIC
causes BIG TROUBLE...then maybe I should turn off my plastic' megaphone and
sing the last song on the album
Low, and this is my trade
For years we been some players, what more can I say?
Saturday night at my dance, throw on a few clothes, uh
Hit Atlanta
dreams to me is a fan
I netted ten million and did a lil' dance
I'm fuckin' the world, I unzip my pants
My uncle G told me that I had a chance
So then
Low, and this is my trade
For years we been some players, what more can I say?
Saturday night at my dance, throw on a few clothes, uh
Hit Atlanta
fucking know that
I was your last dance
Your last dance
Your last dance
I was your last dance
Your last dance
Your last dance
I was your last dance
I
All right, okay
All right, okay
All right, okay
All right, okay
All right
We'll make it funky for you now
[Common]
I'm a child of the ah,
and Be-
-atrices
I should say
Your last album was everywhere
And I don't mean that in a good way
We over it
All of us are over it
So we're takin'
'cause the Kane said so
This is the dance floor groove of the album
Presented to you all live from Calvin
Whoops! I meant to say Mister Cee
The disc
This album with downloaded beats is the last one
Yo, dance to this track initials of a friend turning nineteen
Hey, everyone, come with me grow with
Written by Tommy Shaw
Lead Vocals by Tommy Shaw
I'm tired of your psychology
To bring me to my bended knees
And if I could only talk to you
smokin' on indica (mmm)
Fox on me like Vivica (mmm)
I pray for before meals, spiritual
Rackies by the big face (yeah)
They want my spot, they wanna
you took me by surprise
When you took me for a ride ugh
Told her hello baby, hold up
Are you tryna roll up, told me daddy sho nuff
I'ma do it to you
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