Lyrics:
Time flies
No time to waste while it's passing you by
Time files
Be patient 'cause good things happen in time
We gon' get it right, we gon' get
Cookies in the lunch box
Quitting time in sight
Dunk em in some black tea
Gets me through the night
Chorus #3
Black tea Black tea
Please sit
when I believe her
I'll soon be back; I got the fever
She's a believer
I got the freight liner fever
Now, there's a railroad a-runnin' by a highway
used to be a sentimental guy
Now I'm haunted by the left unsaid
I never thought so much could change
Little things you said or did
Are part
soul
From the shadow of a black crow
Got a box of reds and a bottle of the blues
Comes a time in your life, honey, you've gotta choose
My belly's
Rudy Currence
And me, I go by the name of Ludacris, right
And it's a lot of people out there claim that their voices
Let me know the truth, Bossa is
So I put a checkmark!
On the box
And give it to the Lynx
Who will give it to the spirit
By the name of Robert Sheeman
And he will take
going down
Playing chess with these black men
Intimidated by black skin
I ain't going out with no action
Got a faction of black and brown
Rocking the naps
Raping his mother, whip her to death
We scorn the name of the Lord
His corpse is rotting, upon the cross
Vultures are feasting on flesh
Satanic sorcerers,
box
They put you in a big black box
They put you in a big black box
And cover you up with dirt and rocks
Pon de Replay
Hol mir das AUX-Kabel von dem
What's in the box
What's in the box
What's in the box
Surrounded by all of these black mirrors and can't see ourselves any clearer
Mama used
despise me
Or try to deprive me of the respect that I need (oh, I see)
You don't know that the nigga Motor just blow and I'm walking by myself
Talking
Beat you black and blue like a savage brute that's moving through you
Column formation move out keep in back of the shooter
Stuff the magazine full
validation, her beauty represent all the nation
She goes by
Black sister, black sister, bla... bla... black sister
Black sister, black sister, bla... bla...
Lord of scald Steo forth for the nature of ruin Captivating the heavens with a scorn of burns from this rotting sun Dissecting the heavens for
roots grow black to red
Rows of scorn rise from the bed
My old flames burn hot
Step up to the garden wall
Come on show your face
If you're gonna tear me
goodbye to the bitches
And the champagne corks
Say hello to the ditches where
Your homies is tossed, in it
Porche blocks be black tinted
Everything stocked
floor
That bitch on the salt box, know when I rain I pour
Shoot up the Mardi Gras with double chrome 44's
Full up plates, 'cause someone I'm ready
I got a big brown black box by my bed
I got a lot of things clackin' in my head
I got a big box by my bead
I got a big foot just for you
I got a big
the hustla is
So bitch act like ya know me a youngin bro
But my dough stack like I'm grownin
I'm the black steve austin
I pull up and I stunna
And do just what
to box
One-two punch and the GoreTex drops
On your toe, your brother got caught
By GoreTex boots from the GoreTex shop
Git it!
Posse in effect, scramble
homie
My style like Mandela meets Monster Kody
Cop backwoods by the box bro, OG only
Drop 460 for a zip, need 2 to be cozy
I hate to stunt but look me up
Haunting revelation, fear grows in your eyes
Depths of the unknown, nightmares come to life
Black fleet in the sky, your Final Shape is nigh
Shadows digging
surveyed the abyss
Seeking for plains of farewell that wisedom breeds
Walking with scorn, hiding by thorns
The light, it pursued my trails
But I take
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