Lyrics:
money you got?
Get out my pockets homie, let me just get a regular eighth
Alright well, come on in, don't touch nothin' either
Here, smell this, this
Don't touch me
Drown
It punishes me
For the evil
It takes me Down
In cold blood
The darkness
It lures
She takes it all
Dragged by her feet
Tied
"Man, I wouldn't touch that bitch" Me neither
Hoe go home and wash out your beaver
And niggas out there messin' up people's health
Yo, what the fuck
between the races
He hold the rock, call for sweatshops
Guard the set shop replaced by sex shops
The highest bidder, no room for the quitter
Game seven
between the races
He hold the rock, call for sweatshops
Guard the set shop replaced by sex shops
The highest bidder, no room for the quitter
Game seven
out in the crowd.
Endless laughter, hearts beat in time,
Your smile’s electric, it’s blowing my mind.
With you by my side, the world’s so bright,
Every
Reach out and touch faith
Feeling unknown
And you're all alone
Flesh and bone
By the telephone
Lift up the receiver
I'll make you a believer
Take second
us that in a battle we can't last
The battle started at 10:30 and by quarter of eleven was no longer eight crews (how many was their)
There was seven
The fall is in sight
Touch me am I breathing?
The toll of the blight
Touch me am I breathing
They're all in a lie
The sevens befogged thy eyes
(Burning
When I wAs A little boy,
(When I wAs just A boy)
And my mother would cAll my nAme,
(When I wAs just A boy)
She'd sAy I hAd to be in the house by 7
you see is just illusion)
You're surrounded by confusion (you're surrounded by confusion)
Saying life's begun to cheat you
Friends are out to beat
the water
They gonna think you a lobster, nigga (gang)
Uh
I just dropped a kit, you dropped out of school
These hoes wanna be famous 'til they make
Like nine cans of shaving powder, that's funky
It was once said by a man who couldn't quit
Dope man please, can I have another hit?
The dope man
daylight one midnight lamp lit twenty four seven
Murdered out windows two exits
Street or nosedive to the next life in seconds
And suicide ain't my
lightin' the green
I need the bucket, even though I look right in the beam
Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails
Niggas throw us on they album,
passport I'ma leave in a second
What's the over under how many cities I touch down
What's the over under how many bitches I bust down
What's the over under
open that front door
Interscope printed out right by the entrance, door closes
Not a metaphor, then I start towards
That front, that's right, where
underneath
Now, reach your hands up with your fingers out
Reach my hands up with my fingers out
Now, touch your head to the ground
Like you’re bowing down
of ballers, Inglewood, we love it!
Live from LA, this way that-a-way
Slide in the hid-house
Feeling burned did-out
Kick of your shoes and relax your feet
first on Broadway.
With dark and yellow gold,
I was 11 years old.
The inspiration was spread out like a blanket, ask em'.
My discovery was beyond
you see is just illusion)
You're surrounded by confusion (you're surrounded by confusion)
Saying life's begun to cheat you
Friends are out to beat
daylight one midnight lamp lit twenty-four seven
Murdered out windows two exits
Street or nosedive to the next life in seconds
And suicide ain't my
a dreamer
Bitch we dem boyz, nigga we the Beatles
1-8-7 No appeal, get it how you live
Before I go broke accountants jump off a bridge
First round draft
Joe
Man, 7.62, turn him G.I. Jane
It's that Rick Owen boot, they be knee-high, man
Now when I look down you know I can't see my ankle
Man, she
.jpg/300px-30_Seconds_to_Mars,_Anfiteatro_Camerini_(2).jpg "Thirty Seconds to Mars")
Discuss these out of touch by 7 seconds Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In