Lyrics:
bored
But girl, what qualities was I looking for before?
Who you settling for? Who better for you than the boy, huh?
I love me, I love me enough for
would
It's Snoop D O Double G, I'm in ya neighborhood
I make it crack-a-lack, do it just like that
Take a sip of this, nigga have a puff of that
You
My name is Joe Roberts, I work for the state
I'm a sergeant out of Perrineville, barracks number eight
I always done an honest job, as honest as I
better
I lack a name, to you I'm whoever
Pressure on my heart, I find pleasure
Hope you hate me, etcetera
Sure you heard it all, I'ma broken record
I'm not
A visitor from Heaven
If only for a while
A gift of love to be returned
We think of you and smile
A visitor from Heaven
Accompanied by grace
puzzled by the way that you're behaving?
You wonder why you do the things you do?
Are you troubled by your lack of resistance?
It feels like something's
This a special dedication, (thank y'all)
I wanna thank you for the fuel
No really thank you
(Y'all better hear this shit)
I felt so inspired by
sight tonight's the night to get hyped
And fight for what's wrong, fuck what's right!
And by the way, my name is Dre
So listen up motherfucker to what I
doing my time
Pick up my water bottle and my towel, sir
And I take 'em one by one
From Mercedes to V.W's
I do 'em all and I don't favor none
Well
things that'll keep this action going strong.
Don't make a name for yourself
By stressing out everyone else
And don't bring your personal war
Through
My name is Francis Albert (Francis Albert Sinatra)
And I sing love songs mostly after dark, mostly in salons.
I've had some very good years.
I
For years I have been waiting and hesitating to make a rap record
That had the pace of a slow song, quiet storm, chillin while the fire is warm
You
I'm five years old
It's getting cold
I've got my big coat on
I hear your laugh
And look up smiling at you
I run and run
Past the pumpkin
Don't lack
If we miss a opp then we spin back
Uh Don't lack
If he throw 1 we throw 5 back
Shit could get tragic
I'm throwin like madden
Turn him
the
Fact that I can't get by with my nine-to-
Five and I can't provide the right type of
Life for my family 'cause man, these goddamn food stamps don't buy
The name is Krayzie, big bad ass bone,
Wanted up north for all the gold that I stole,
Along with some cash I even took the mayor's daughter,
Now that
to send my love to my friend Rick Ross
Rick, I'm immensely appreciated
In giving me love and keeping my name
In your music for the past two decades
It
[originally performed by The Who]
[I. Her Man's Been Gone]
Her man's been gone
For nigh a year
He was due home yesterday
But he ain't here
Her
it
Hang Hollywood niggas by they Soul Train laminates
What's the difference between me and you? (What?)
About five bank accounts, three ounces
as rich as you are
It's much better by far
To be young at heart
And if you should survive
To a hundred and five
Look at all you'll derive
Out
here in Tennessee
You always talked about the better days
(In Southern California)
But if you'll stay in Tennessee
I promise there'll be better
Deal out Jacks or better on a blanket by the stairs
I'll tell you all my secrets, but I lie about my past
And send me off to bed for evermore
Make sure
A thousands parts a pound of heart an ounce of eyes
Announcing now the doubt in mouth pronounces a count of lies
Chocula counts by the counts of 5
figured 5 to 9
So make it Epitaph, he wins it by a half
According to this here in the Telegraph
Paul Revere, Valentine, Epitaph
I got the horse right here
Discuss these for lack of a better name by deadmau5 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