Lyrics:
still flame
But they love you on the come-up 'cause you ain't tainted by fame
And you still they little secret
That's the type of bullshit that they
It’s a white man’s game
Gotta lace up your shoes
Gotta button up your shirt
Gotta play it by the rules
You don’t wanna make the news
It’s
education
And I’m sure this will end up online
So I don’t want to diss anyone at
The American Academy, I’m sure it’s equal to
The Art Institute of Chicago by
that’s just fucking great
The white boy got the girl again
Well, that’s just fucking great
The white boy got the girl again
Come back to me come back
left me on someone else's lawn
(Else's lawn)
(Else's lawn)
(Else's lawn)
Til' somebody finally took me in, my great aunt and uncle, Edna and Charles
We came here across the great divide
Into the city, slander all eyes
We found a great love as we fell inside
They could not touch us as we'd go by
the whips that ride by
I'm like spark some Ky I just fly by
Not in a white ride at night time on a black bag in the
day time when the markets on
Park your
his plan;
When a white bird flew by she fell from the sky,
Nothing was found, only blood on the ground, she was gone;
Cursing his fortune,
He
Creed album.
Guy 2: Ah, yeah, man. Scott Stapp, that guy's a musical genious.
Guy 1: One of the great minds of our generation.
(match lit)
(sound
high
Washington was my destination
And now who am I?
I'm the chosen party giver
For the White House clientele
And they know that I deliver
What
Ashen, berimed and worn,
Shivering by the shore.
Borne upon sheets of ice,
I am forlorn.
Bitten by frost and fright,
Blind in a field of white
Possessed by those who died
In the last great war!
Surrounded by fog, screams and blinding fire
hunger is just another awakening of thunderous
Feeling the same without you white eyes
I could do great by myself why try?
I notice things about you why hide?
I feel a lot by myself that's fine
I
that project
know that it was the first of its kind.
First visual album ever produced or created by a Nigerian Artist.
So give it up for that!
I know
and white folks buyin' this album
Negroes and white folks buyin' this album
Everybody's gonna know who this group is
We just felt that the picture wasn't
Hearing bout my albums and they hating me at all
Yeah gotta make suck to my dick bitch hear that bb on my bitch
Wanna textin me from your house
Oh baby , If I could Explain the joy I feel
Oh If I could explain the joy I feel
All this love making is oh so real
Oh like winter time by
Restaurant, there's a picture hanging there
Of a petrified Italian with escargot in his hair
And there's a big, white horse rug lying by the door
And I'm
sound of hip hop
Presented by the spectacular and malicious Villain
Mr. John Anthony
Making this to be one of the artist's more uncompromising albums
When I be asking
Yo who is more dramatical
This one that one
The white one or the black one
Pick the punk
And I'll jump up to attack one
my niggas at the top because we great at shit
Didn't wanna see me up, I know they hate that shit
Most hated, most underrated
I mean, nah, I made it,
un-wonderful with the hat
Who watchin' you by the cap
Make America great again
I just don't to wait at these great American gates again
Patiently staying in
and my man Rick got millions of gold albums
(That's a lie) I'm gettin' cold money every day
(You're a liar)
You'll need a wheel barrow for all that shit in
motorized wheelchair
Above the album cover wall
They brought in one of his airplanes
And his very first guitar
I'm surrounded by all of you
But I'd feel
.jpg/300px-White_Lies,_Roundhouse,_London_(11322033455).jpg "Great White Lies")
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