Lyrics:
occupation
Feeling the sentiment of a lower echelon
On a daily occasion
That great god damned gilded age is gone
Dr. Peter is gone
Now when I'm done work I
I'll come
Bro, thank you
Yeah, may not have a Lamborghini
But my grandma made us some linguini
Got a house from the 80s
With an old Mercedes
Come inside
with me
I got an old car we drove to the edge of town
We stopped by old man Millers' farm
Just to watch the world spin around
And she moves
Shut your fat face
I gotta blurt it in a verse because the
Twerps is throwing dirt up on my name
It's Peter Sparker, known to grip it
Quick to skip
the house where I was raised
And he did it all because he was taught the old ways
By the time my daddy started
Passing down these tools to me
They were
albino
You fucked little kids pedo Michael
40 years old, 10 years old
Disowned by his own family for
Touching 3 year old
Boys robbed McCartney of his
out, I'm the C-A-S-A-N, the O-V-A
And the rest is F-L-Y
You see I go by the code of the doctor of the mix
And these reasons I'll tell you why
You
Lane
I will leave some milk and cookies by the chimney on a tray
Oh Santa don't forget our old white house on Cedar Lane
Oh Santa don't forget our old
priests came 'round our house tonight
One young, one old
To offer prayers for the dying, to serve the final rites
One to learn, one to teach
Which way
priests came 'round our house tonight
One young, one old
To offer prayers for the dying, to serve the final rites
One to learn, one to teach
Which way
old ass sing no more
You fuckin' punk pussy, you fucking faggot, sissy fuck
And by the way, a .380's a fuckin' sissy gun
If you're gonna shoot
tree
Now it was early one spring
And I was tied by my string
In a field of a make-believe farm
When around the house, the boy and the bear
Came
the kitchen
His family now just feels like mine
But he's Peter Pan wild with his Neverland smile
And sometimes it is gone for a while
He says he feels like
and trouble are my middle name
I was raised in the cane-brake by an old mama lion
Can't no a high-tone woman make me walk the line
You load sixteen tons
on the deed in the mailbox
I sleep easy in the bed I made
And I
Dream bigger than I did before
Took a while to feel this way
Brick by brick
Board by
And life drifts slowly by in the provinces
Peter Foster goes to Gloucester for his first school day
Bites his teacher, sees a preacher and is taught
co-operated
And they fall
Right out of the ship into the fucking sun
Made they couldn't even fucking run
We were blocked by Tara Strong after seeing it
She does
the thrill up to the west hills
Dumped the bodies by the old mill off of a drug deal
I keep it real all I tell is the truth
Ray Lewis hiding white suites you
all the proceedings
Are brought to you by the church house where we'll be eatin'
Chestnuts roastin' on an open fire
Singin' my jingle, where is Kris
There's an old house I left in the distance
I can still see it standing by the road
It'll always be a part of my existence
Full of memories and faces
action
By seeing it as a challenge, you
Will have converted this negative
Into a positive
Purely by a mental process that will
Result in positive action
fucks
I hate whoever you like, I think your hero sucks
I send 'em a, old-fashioned "fuck you" like middle fingers
Thrown up by little old ladies with
soft and silly
am I too?
madly, softly, hardly
maddening, softening, hardening
broke into an old house
hey it's an old school house now!
wandering
years
I ain't just got ends, I end careers
Cosigned by the allmighty pac
When I drop science like? I'm not lyin'
Put a scar on your face like Simba's
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