Search results for 'dusty streets by knaan' Page #13

See I come from a place not far from here
Where everybody knows my name
Where the, the streets are dusty and the roads are long
And you've got

the mud? 

We are the earth waking up 

By what bidding came the bloom of the water lily? 
The seed to sprout and grow? 
This tiny product of death, itself

Still getting played by these dusty hoes 

Don't trust that hoe she too social 
Don't trust a nigga of you move Like a hoe do 
They a run they mouth about

First off fuck you and det nigga bitch
(Fuck em)
Talking allet shit onna gram(what)
Like come and see me bitch
Meet me outside inna streets I'm where

of our lives
And ate lots of cans of beans
We tracked em to a town
Of leftovers virtually untouched by the hands of time

The street were dusty

Underdog underdog where you at
Under the city in the sewer with the rats 
Looking up at the folks with the racks
Laying by they table and I'm begging

I slapped off one 
No heddie 
Hit him in his belly
Don’t think he was ready
Bro just slapped off the semi
Shh shh got saved by heli 
Just got my load

The Bulletin, 23 July 1892
This poem was prompted by reading Henry Lawson's poem "Borderland".

IN DEFENCE OF THE BUSH
(words Banjo Paterson, music

Yahh, It's bini, and I'm free, feels good
Now, Heaven on earth to me, put simp-a-ly in layman's t
Is cruisin' dusty backroads in this Mid-Ohio Valley

bubble over
Scraped it with a spoon
I'm a fucking goon
If you hit the block early enough, then you'll sell out by noon
I'm in tune with the streets
I ain't

a 4x4
Pull up side by side
Two dudes in four doors
Two lights then went green
One car stayed real still
The streets cold hearted
You thought that they

my friend so blue.
On the dusty road, you lit the way,
A messiah's touch, on a sunny day.
You're my guiding light, in the darkness,
Through the storms,

fuck with you
Shoutout to all of the homies that's down in the dusty
Free the homies
Rest In Peace to all the guys
Quitman Street
Korruption
Yea

All the Critics in New York

Westside Connection

Bow Down

1996

keeps, deep crews pay dues
By murder ones and twos, rip riders and damus 
Choose to stay gangsta, you never ever ran us
We bustin clips like bananas,

through
The dusty streets of Italy in a cage
And later confined to a madhouse
Celine robbed, hooted at, tormented by
The French
Fitzgerald who finally quit

Spin his block, we gon' spin again five% tints, he can't see me
Hop out chains on, so he know it's me 4800 shit, fuck a drive-by
We on feet, and we

Only fucking you for the shoes and the money. She lining you up got you looking real funny. Back doored by a hoe that could never be me. Im in control

comfortable
You talk about a topic, just stick to the script
These niggas never touched a pack and they dusty as shit
Next chapter 25, gotta switch up the gear

we were teens
Running through the house with dirty feet
Kicking stones down these dusty streets
Coming home when it's too dark to see
Time goes by
Oh

on the road
Anywhere he's always looking for the next place to go
In the streets he does his tricks for applause and tips
There's a hat just put a dollar in it

columbus sailed on many moons
on a sea of hope
i'll be back it won't be soon
with every word I wrote
it's gone

a sentence in a dusty book

to my ground the opps know not to pass here
Uh and I'm chillin' by the pool
every single day man where the fuck is you
I pull up to the jet and they all

full off pain
Pain my heart but you take it away
I made some change then everybody changed
You stated by my side guess you real not fake
I'm trynna put

from the dusty streets, ain't nobody chasing dreams.
I get it how I'm doing, nearly hard to make a living.
Always tryna sound intelligent like I'm