Search results for 'house with no curtains by alan jackson' Page #12

the capital with no capital
No water in my tank but oil money in the bank
Cat calls like bat calls for niggas wanna hit the cat raw
But we can't love our women

without you
I don't go out because there's no
One I'm meeting without you
And there's no way I spread the
Shower curtain grimes without you
Why try to rip

regime sees, kick you out of your box

That's why I'm chillin in Montona wit a tent on the plains
on em Snow covered hills, only dirt with no graves
Only

If I can't go to your house
And you can't come to mine
If I can't see you on the street
Wearing your perfect smile
Just remember with each passing

wash the blood all off my apron
Have you ever felt alone
In a house but not a home
There's no harmony
Not a part of me
My thoughts back and forth because

of an eye
Take it back to 95 one time, I was 5 at the time
Parents house crate digging like
Mike Jackson, Stevie wonder, the Beatles
Music was my god & there

Sie, oh my smongy, no, Sie, my only brother locked up like he don't know me
Fade to white, Michael Jackson type like hehe, Billie Jean, Willy Sean,

Yeah he was talking that shit alright 
He ain't talking no more
You want smoke i'm with that shit
Drac came with extended clip
I got aim i don't miss

the block
Like a seesaw
I was with Sally by the seashore
Up and down in them Clio's
How do you think I afford them Dior's
Uh
It's a mazza
Come along away from

I’m right outside of your house with flowers
Tryna get leverage my fault
2 hands on me on arrival
2 things don’t violate or move entitled
If your

got hit by the ARPs, he couldn't even run
Curb Monster got him whacked
I think I hit him, ain't no need to guess
We was already spinnin' back
Family

a n**** momma house up, no talkin'
(Shh) Too much talkin'
Ran out with a 100 bands, I ain't playin'
Cut the promoter, thought I was playin'
Got a 2-2-3

Puting on our boots
Yeah we sucking bubs
I got prove 
For the last time aren't got no time 
To be looking at the full time 
With my fastline with my rap

there somebody there?

Predictably flagellate with every album
"It's part of the process, please, spare it no thought"
So bring down the house lights,

blinded by cultural ignorance and steady judging
But judge not, lest ye may be judged
For the judgment ye judge ye shall surely be judged, you gets no

on when
That ass clappin
I'm in kitchen with the action uh
Dickies on gloves on like I'm Michael Jackson
I stir it up no wrist fracture
White bitch nose

Well, I’m Driving by your house
And I can see the light on
There’s one too many cars in your driveway
And you’re not alone
Through the curtains I see

And making sure my family ain't Slaving

I want a house on the hills
Mom want food and no bills
I want a room full of my plaques
And her in Louis Vuitton heels

And I did it all on my own
All by myself
I ain't need no help yeah
Six am when I'm coming home
Forget the nonsense I airplane my phone yeah
And I did

A few weeks in the county ain't no big deal
So a punk like you can't fuck with me
That big ballin'-ass nigga named King Tee
You think ya can? I don't

Every lady in the spot agree
If it ain’t Buckshot, it’s me, K.B
Same person in the Benz with the curtain
And the chauffeur saying, Buck, turn right?

Pictures of you hanging on the wall
Waiting by the phone for you to call
Say that you don't want to end it all, no
I fool myself, what am I going to do?
I'm

get your hands high
And tonight it's no stress get your hands high
If you with who you love get your hands high, get em up
Keep a good time on stand by

Brick by brick they pulled him down
The last picture house in town

Gene Kelly went singing for the last time in the rain
And one more kiss with Betty