Lyrics:
Talking's in the house.
Modern Talking's in the house.
Modern Talking's in the house.
Everybody, wave your hands in the air, come on!
Lady I know it was
in my kitchen my nigga
And we was weighin' blow
Mobwire, my nigga, only God flyer
Tryna keep warm by the fire in my fly attire
Never wanna rap
silver plate with a
Fookin doyley on it?
CRAIG: To be honest
In this house I'd be grateful
For a cuppa that
Doesn't taste like it's been sieved
Through
three Glocks
Wass Gang ran his ass down by the sea walk
My trap house running like Yung Lava
Don't let me get the drop
And send them Wassas
Anchor on your
You not hard, you not crazy, you just act retarded
Car out a video game, you gotta push start
Shoot a nigga right in his chest, we take shit to heart
the road 'til evening and I laid me down again
All strangers there, no friends to me, 'til a dark girl towards me came
And I fell in love with a Creole girl
the alligators,
I would sleep out in the woods".
"You're welcome here kind stranger,
Our house is very plain.
But we never turn a stranger out,
From the lakes
The light in the room is weak
And walls are covered with marks
Left by the people who once
Were residents of the house
The windows have a thick layer
know who to call
If you want it all
Lil student
Lil drop out
You know I stay
In my traphouse
Lil student
In my trap house
Timmy turner wish you off
in the street
From the fire roads to the interstate
Some guys they just give up living
And start dying little by little, piece by piece
Some guys
in the street
From the fire roads to the interstate
Now some guys they just give up living
And start dying little by little, piece by piece
Some
'em in the street
>From the fire roads to the interstate
Now Some guys they just give up living
And start dying little by little piece by piece
Some
a stranger out, by the Lakes of Pontchartrain.
She took me to her mammy's house, and she treated me right well,
The hair around her shoulders, in them jet
Cen Cal terrain, soak up game
Where graff writers bomb trains
And poets is smoked out with
Dope in they veins
Need a toast to the post where we hang
bloodshed
Cursed in converses, dead in Pro Keds
Now every Tom, Dick, Harry or Joe Smith
Skip the spauldings, pony's, and k-swiss
High school and college
Check me out now
Its a lifestyle
Smoking on that loud
Im here for a while
I went up in her house
I like her black and mild
Feeling like a boss
She's
selling weight, can't let the feds interfer and hate
Locked in a cage, never be a witness to an early fate
Hit the blunt and reconcile, ski mask and 40 cal
Only baddies party till morning
But i was Looking for my babe
All alone in the afterparty
Surrounded by strangers, surrounded by death
But what else
Through silence and slight
Feast in the glory of the Stranger
The black goat, the lion of the night
You are an acolyte loyal
To the house of black & white
question I had dreams about my dreams just like inception
Ain’t shit clean up in my raps so it’s all up to your discretion
Bro turnt 21 I’m like go get a gun
And I'll be in the papers,
And having sex with strangers,
But now I'm getting by,
On Lidl shepherd's pie,
And it tastes like shit.
Haven't got a job,
For the masses to see that I ain't pleased by our inferior treatment
Many drug seasons in my people's history
Crack and vaccines led black well-being
alone
When up walked a tall stranger
He shadowed her move-to-move
In perfect unison
A supernatural groove
He took her by the hand
And the room
alone
When up walked a tall stranger
He shadowed her move-to-move
In perfect unison
A supernatural groove
He took her by the hand
And the room
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