Lyrics:
both ends of the rainbow
My colors and my pot of gold
I love you with a love untold
More than I can say
You are the song of every bird
You are
I'm going to smoke some pot
I'm going to drink some beer
Fall off my chair, yeah
It's my birthday
I'm going to spill my drink
And slur my words
fall)
I'm at the gun range learning how the bullets bust (bust)
Hate got us by the balls, squeeze these
Gotta pay your dues, love
April in the summer
my op
Dat hy by jou bly stop
My hart het nie kos nie
Want hy wil jou nie los nie
Sit my pot se dêksel op
Ooh-hoo-hoo
En my hart kook oor
Want ek het
grind hard (grind hard) and play harder (play harder)
Break out the pot (yup) heat up the water (damn!)
Swear to God the minivan do tricks
Hit
don't live by the same code
I'm respected everywhere I go
Nigga, long live Bankroll
Skip the rainbow, funny style shit
And it's straight to the pot
if not, where the hell did it go?
'Cause here I sit in Lucifer's den by the dutch oven just choosing to sin
Even if it means I'm selling my soul,
pots
My luck was good I could do no wrong
I just kept on rollin' and controllin' them bones
Finally they just threw up their hands and said
When
W końcu na parkiecie imprezy nadszedł czas
Nie wiecie o co chodzi to hip hop dla was
Tutaj każdy może robić to co chce
Nie ma możliwości by ktoś
a sweeter fare
Took my dream down by the sea
Sailing yachts and lobster pots and sunshine
Logs and sails and shell oil pails
Down where the waterskiers
hired men with the scythes so sharp,
To cut him off at the knee,
They've rolled him and tied him by the waist,
Servin' him most barbarously.
They've
of lonliness
It's written by the poison pen
Voices break before they bend
The door is slammed
It's over, once again
But nobody's buying flowers from
'till the money stop
I used to cook with several pots
But now my hands in several pots
You try to plot on 'Wop, my goons gon' play connect the dots
My
Lilly Pearl standin' by the wood stove
Cookin' up a pot of fatback and beans
Aprons made outta Martha White flour sack
Them was the days when
Wait, I've got a better plan
To catch this big red lobster man
Let's pop him in a boiling pot
And when he's done we'll butter him up
Kidnap
and bags on the floor by the decks
Me next to DJ, I carry the swing
[Incomprehensible] as he exercising
Everybody moving as a unified swing
Gentle up
from the cops
Too bad drive by with the mop
They got orders to aim for the top
Sipping that glorious wock
4real I'm smoking the pot
4L I roll with
piped like clacks
By the ol' scarecrow
'N pots 'n pans burn the fireman's hands till the
Kettle leaped fire round the belly 'o'
The bayou boy bums
walk by all the people say
How lucky can a man get?
I wanna rock, I wanna roll
God help me, can you save my soul?
When you touch me I go losin'
420
WRITTEN BY: LARRY KING, JOIE SCOTT, MICHAEL PETERESON
KEYS JOHN BLASUCCI
GUITARS MICHAEL THOMPSON
DRUMS KHARI PARKER
BASS ALAN BERLIANT
a
A czas a każda nowa chwila daję nadzieję i pot z czoła obmywa
Bo czas każda jego kropla man daje siłę nam by na tym świecie zostać a
A czas a każda nowa
No more pots and pans, I'm in a mansion
Gotta thank the plug (Plug)
Got hoes in the kitchen dirty dancin'
Gotta thank the plug (Quavo)
The first thing
keep it cool with me
I played it by the rules and the regulations
I use to switch cars with the Mexican at the gas station
Mine had money in it, his
the man on the streets
Doesn't even have enough to eat
And tell me when your walking by
Can you see the tears in his eye
Somebody please tell me why
.jpg/300px-Guttermouth(by_Scott_Dudelson).jpg "Guttermouth")
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