Lyrics:
past
And I found myself alone
Surrounded by strangers I thought were my friends
I found myself further and further from my home
And I guess I lost my
Hate me
I pull my hair by the fistful
Hate me
Spinning scissors like a pistol
You dare to say
That I'm forcefully insane
The truth remains
he gone?
Cos by day you would get your sleep on
Aged eight, moved to the UK for opportunities
But never seen (???) immigrant
Wasn't killin shit
could be a ho
But he called back (cool)
And I can't believe how some of why'all niggaz
Let the glory pass you by
But steady want to pick my brain
Used to get up at 7
Make breakfast for the children
Get them out to the bus by 8
Sit down with a coffee
Throw the hair in a pony
Make sure
I've been working so hard (so hard)
I'm punching my card (my card)
Eight hours for what?
Oh, tell me what I got
I got this feeling,
That
still on that hood shit
Post up by the liquor store, up the block from 8 to 4
My little nigga selling dope, it's GPL fuck you now
My Spanish Bousin
Neighborhood life right by Mr. Rodger
You niggas get more even and I get more odder
I run off winter time like a platinum Rolex
Eat my dust taste my auto
And the bank account's minus, surviving debt
While the CEOs fly by in private jets
So let me see your lighters, the funds couldn't be tighter
And you call
Once again, another Trax Productions
Rush for the 9-8, mobsta elites
Ain't it a shame how we make ballin' look so sweet
Especially when you ain't
Packed up ready for the journey got my U-Haul
Game's over sunk the 8 followed by the cue ball, cue ball, cue ball
Tapes pop Panama to Cuba Jack's chasin'
This is not the right way (8x)
Some have said that I was given keys to the city of your dreams
I'm more content to walk outside the walls
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight
I've got my clipboard, text books
Lead me to the station
Yeah, I'm off to the civil war
I've
and we hope to die that the other was to blame
Either one will give in so we gaze at our eight by ten
Thinkin' bout things that might have been oh it's
Words and Music by Mark Schultz
From the recording: Song Cinema, Track #8.
A chapter done
Turn the page
And separate roads
Lead separate ways
But
the storm of elder
Let again Gungnir fly
Into the chests of Giants,
And release again thte power
Of your eight-leggend horse
Ride again in front
say about
Seventy-eight degrees (Yeah, it's a nice day, man)
You can feel and see the breeze ruffling in the trees
I hold the Pacific
I feel and look
blind by my spinners
Look at the damn better make a killin' man
When I stop 28's look like a ceiling fan
I done came down
I done came down
I done
Ronquillo
© 2002 by Jamie Stevens and Rodney Ronquillo
verse 1:
You say I don't ever see you
You say that I don't notice who you are
But I don't ever have
know you scared now
Marcy House
(Let's go, just blaze)
I let you know, how I do it round here
And I'm out eight in a morn', dawg Glock two around here
eight, they're the kind that linger
I ran outside for some comfort
The sun, it was blinding
Nothing bad could ever happen under a sky this blue
1-2-3-4 I don't like you!
Get out on the job in the morning
Time is draggin' by real slow
( ? )
Boss is keepin' me on the go
Sick of that routine
I binge and I barf cause I carry the scars of an eight-year-old
Who?s mother applied the same rules to a kids body
As her own
I think you?ll leave me
Ever since I was eight or nine
I've been standing on the shoreline
Always waiting
For something lasting
Loose your hunger, you loose your way
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