Search results for 'these boots are made for walkin by the fixx' Page #15

a problem keep my name out your mouth
Cause these boot spurs are freshly mounted
And I ain't afraid to sleep in the County
If you want a problem we can get it

walkin by smellin like a pound of green
Im chasin money like in posed to
Only niggas hatin is them broke fools
Same niggas that aint makin no moves
Watchin

I made me a boomerang
She complaining that all of these dudes the same
Never listened I gave her the utu bang
Yeah I got the kind of rhythm
Make ya

someone to love

The therapist think I'm paranoid
I'm attentive, I ain't worried, but when the truth are dusty
I made it look nostalgic, now these gala

Miss Ghetto

Poor Righteous Teachers

The New World Order

1996

flashy
Can't be caught in fatigue khakis
They're rocking cool G(?), versace and cold boots G
These brothers do it for the love of the life
But I refuse

I was workin' and workin' for low Now I'm duckin' and duckin
Them hoes, puttin' boot to the motherfuckin' floor
Tryna put all the boys in the rolls

Or, we'd actually made the album, should I say, and we were rehearsing the
tour, you see, we were rehearsing for the tour in Miami. Well, a place called

the mud
In your truck at seventeen
Laughing hysterically
Yeah I guess these days are gonna come and go
Cause it turns out that it never was a Silverado
That

I'm flickin' that clit
She likin' the way I'm up in this bih

Look at the boots they rent, uh, and the jacket, yeah, it's made by Raf
They catch me

accused
Many cases get less attention than the rising cost of fruits
Most cases are overshadowed by news of what Kim K spent on her new boots

Around

these towns but I only have eyes for you
Slung drinks till the glasses clink but I only have eyes for you
Moaned prayers by the county fair but I only

Self-made zillionaire
I'm the fuckin' heir
Walkin' with a beat to it, I got nappy hair
Big d--, big nose, nice shoes too
Hype-God
Getting beats off

Stars are made from walkin' in the trenches
And it seems y'all all forgettin'
Rap's about the fuckin' come up
Where the fuck your asses come from?
What

a forty, get amped
These niggas wanna test
We get wild like boot camp
In the Garden, fuck the stardom
I beg your pardon catch a bitch slippin
Knock out

A half a brick from him
Movin' 'round six cars deep like
It's a hit on me
Hundred round drum on the AR
I'm tryna hit somethin'

I'll march to Flint for

none on my team
I don't do no snakes got these bullets for actors
I'm not like John Wick, if there's a dog in my circle I'll put him down right by myself

Big Noise from Winnetka

Bing Crosby

Tribute to Woody Allen: Music from His Movies

2010

The astonishing verbal abuse they heaped upon me made me certain 
We were destined to share the stage someday. 
Not only are my girls fine singers and dancers,

the elders like 'fore it's too late to tell ya
All these torches I handle
Feeling little caved in, cognac for the pain and
We ain't get to sip 'fore it had

Not Yet Free

The Coup

Kill My Landlord

1993

motherfuckers in the cold 
No need to be told, cause when you got a million po' people 
Gettin ganked, by a few that are rich and evil 
But it's illegal,

one of a kind I'm unique
Glaccboy reup with that dope, we got it for the street
I brought all these ones out to throw it to the freaks
This S.R.T. just

(baby, baby), too blam for these lames
Yes, when I was nine, I played with slime
Got rhymes ga-lot, got rhymes ga-limes
I got a million like rhymes

I'm callin' out your name, in the shadow of my shame,
With every note I'm wishin', for your forgiveness I'm missin'.

[Verse 2]
These boots have walked

5 A.M.

The Lost Boyz

LB IV Life

1999

hot chicks
We got no time for these dicks
(Push the hot whips)
Burn trees, drink hennecy
When I die you'll remember me
So when I'll die you'll remember

(baby, baby), too blam for these lames
Yes, when I was nine, I played with slime
Got rhymes ga-lot, got rhymes ga-limes
I got a million like rhymes