Lyrics:
Yeah
It's going all the way down
Aquemeni Records, Killer Mike, Slimm Calhoun
Just because your wearing a Braves' jersey
doesn't mean we
name.
I bet you're fat and married and you're always home in bed by half-past eight.
And if I talked about the old times you'd get bored and you'll have
name.
I bet you're fat and married and you're always home in bed by half-past eight.
And if I talked about the old times you'd get bored and you'll have
really going on
Make it look like a lot of stealing going on
Boy them cops is killers in my home
Nigga shot dead in the middle of the street
I ain't no
and campus jocks
Who hid their vernal equinox
In pairs of faded jeans
And slept at home resentfully
Coveting their dreams
And often have I wondered
like
Procreation
Compositions already written by themselves
Saying heck is for the people not believin' in gosh
Good Job
Get 'em up way high
Guns to bang ya wit'
And we put it on records to entertain ya wit'
I'm grown with pains way deeper than Mike Seavers
Our uniforms is white sneakers
Beverly Hills she want to live one day
I can get with that I drop you off home
I called you hit me back I want to dig that did I? I did that
Put it way
done well by me
Byker Hill and Walker Shore, me lads
Collier lads for ever more, me boys
Byker Hill and Walker Shore, me lads
Collier lads for ever more
done well by me
Byker Hill and Walker Shore, me lads
Collier lads for ever more, me boys
Byker Hill and Walker Shore, me lads
Collier lads for ever more
want to live one day
I can get with that I drop you off home
I called you hit me back i want to dig that did I? I did that
Put it way up where her
and change their pace...
You travel west 'til you hit Girona, I'll travel east out of Barcelona
And I'll meet you half-way. One day and night on La Costa Brava
surrounded by guns, killers and crack rock
Wish God could've re-edited that shot, I guess not
The L-O-G-I-C, open your mind, like O-ren Ishii
At fourteen,
you're a plugger, Is what he said
Down the mountain the silent way
Mike left for home. I called two mates
One moaned, OUCH that must sting
The other
to moisture
But you and I know it as Styrofoam
Which reminds me, tonight, on my way home
I need to hit the Kwik Sak
And for five bucks, I got myself
for a couple of hours
You go fishin', tell y' what to do
Go set down by the grassy dew
Take a piece of string, tie it on yo' pole
And throw it way
What's happenin' all over?
I'll tell ya what's happenin' all over.
Guy sittin' home by a television set
Who once used to be something of a rover.
Seekin' shelter from the storm
Turned us south of Bete Grise Bay
By way of Keewenaw point
But the wind was blowing at such a rate
We ended up driftin'
like
Procreation
Compositions already written by themselves
Saying heck is for the people not believin' in gosh
Good Job
Get 'em up way high
singin' man, I like the way that it shines
I was half a mile from Canada waitin' on a train
Wonderin' and wishin' I could disappear again
I been
of the best, the worst of the worst) And more
Much more than this (still here) I did it my way
Let's try this one
Uhh, yeah, gangsta nigga
Put my hustle
to say thank you
Okay, awesome
This is pretty major and, I don't know, you
Probably have no way of knowing this
But the very first song I ever played
don't let you know what's really going on
Make it look like a lotta stealing going on
Boy them cops is killas in my home
Nigga shot dead in the middle
there each time she preached
But ol' Luther took her home each Sunday morn'
Looking back I still recall the way it hurt my tender pride
I longed to be
.jpg/300px-Half_Man_Half_Biscuit_(22017516678).jpg "Half Man Half Biscuit")
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