Lyrics:
could reach you
So wherever you are, turn it up and listen
Hannah Lee, I'm on my way to you
Nobody can love you like I do
I don't know what I'm gon'
and you build with me
Even though you real busy, you's so fuckin' real Drizzy ((Trap-A-Holics)
It's so amazin' I figured out this world is ours for
to get popped by a cop?
Who the next n**** in the hood to get shot?
I hope it ain't me, so I'm strapped up in bulletproof
N**** on my stomach see -
wacker than the motherfucker you bit your style from
You ain't gonna sell two copies if you press a double album
Admit it, fuck it, while we comin' out
sufferin in the game
And I swear it's like a trap
But I ain't given up on the hood it's all good when I go back
Hoes show me love, niggaz give me props
From yo' car to a crap game, no one rolls wit' you
One of Mini-Me's shoes got more sole than you
So by the time you figure out why your record ain't
wacker than the motherfucker you bit your style from
You ain't gonna sell two copies if you press a double album
Admit it, fuck it, while we comin' out
wacker than the motherfucker you bit your style from
You ain't gonna sell two copies if you press a double album
Admit it, fuck it, while we comin' out
just ignore you
'Cause this not a love song (whoa)
This is, "So long"
You did me so wrong for so long, for so long
No I never thought I could
I don’t need no gold anyhow (No, no, oh)
I can’t make love with no diamonds (diamonds)
Give them all to somebody else (anybody)
And what good is one
want it, I got it, I got it everyday
You can get whatever you need from me
Stay by your side, I'll never leave you
And I ain't going nowhere 'cause
of words
But the time to talk is over
When no one gets hurts
So crazy
To leave it this way
With so little said
And so much to say
I should of seen it
this land
That's the war zone, I gots no home, don't have no friends neither
It's just me by my lonely so I married my nina
I keeps her wherever I go,
at least we got good walking music
Or is that it?
No man, I'm queueing up the fourth album now, his final one
Nigga, what the hell are you talkin' 'bout?
a problem
Juvenile delinquents so to speak
But understanding isn't learned from punishment and anger
An iron has no gentle touch and love ain't learned
how they seem so close
I feel your body it's moving breathing
Kansas Index
The Sky Is Falling
The lottery winner thinks forever
Is something she can
to stay on top my game there ain't no time to lose
Four albums deep as a Quester but still we payin' dues
So hear me out one time, you gots to be yourself
Never thought it would be so rough
And I wonder if I have enough
To keep from breaking down
No mercy in this town
Every day is just another test
to kick this muthafucka in
Lets talk about a scandal
The album Geffen found too hot to handle
Fucked up the minds of you and yours
The last lp from
is the gangsta of love
Some of my friends sell drugs
I sell knowledge that you can't get a hoe
Cause the game is so not toe
Promoters took away
heart, and if you follow the charts, or to the plaques or the stacks
You ain't gotta guess who's back, you see
I'm so shy that you thought it was bashful
how time fly
I'm just having fun just watching it fly by
Everywhere that I go
Ain't the same as befo' (The watcher)
People I used to know
Just
holdin' a sink screamin'
Police, but you got no peace
Yo, was that you big man, and alot mo' grease
All I gets is pounds, you ain't want none of this
for thought, my school ain't tought me good
No one greedy inside my hood
But a tablespoon of this baking soda gon' make it good, like it should
That's
.jpg/179px-Whitesnake_San_Antonio_2015_6_(Cropped).jpg "David Coverdale & Whitesnake")
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