Lyrics:
niggas singin the blues
That be always tryin to bag with the shag and karate shoes
Sayin "Yo momma black, his momma this, his momma that"
Then he get
about ten
One of those happy little niggas singin' the blues
That be always tryin' to bag with the shag and karate shoes
(Back in the days)
Sayin',
about ten
One of those happy little niggaz singin' the blues
That be always tryin' to bag with the shag and karate shoes
Sayin' "Yo momma black, his
When A man's been mistreated
When he been kicked around
He been laughed at and lied to
Well it keeps going down
[Chorus]
When A man hits
Old man Louis
Half marajauna half amazing
ClicTyt from Texas
The other's straight from L.A
ClicTyt, born criminal
Test us and we'll show ya
We'll chuck
the chance has come at last
To built a better future from the past
In a brave new World
With just a handful of men
We'll start all over again
# Look - Man is
to be straight up Yeezys
You are so good man and your lies are so great
Your eyes are sky blue but your ass is straight up fake
What excuse now man, you
little theory, and we'll see who floats
Honey, whatever happened to the you who's now askewed
In view? Take two or a few to straight level your blues
baby, I got the wintertime blues
I could cut a hole in the floor
Catch you a fish by a quarter to four
But I'm stuck up this mountain where I got
meat on the street
They paint my car like a target
I take my orders from fools
Meanwhile
some kid blows my head off
Well, I play by their rules
So now
locker wey dem out their provision inside
OdumoduBlvcky man I'm taking it
Junior boy but Seniors been dey look me like their Principal
Picking any
old man suicide with the blues
Shoo him to the corners of the room
Do unto others as you would have them do unto you
Confucius says
Extended families,
Well I walked down to my bank, just to see what I could see
I asked the man behind the desk, I say "Ah, is there any money for me?"
Now he didn't
waiting for a next verse
Well there's not a next verse comin!
I'm just playing man
Well you could take a bag of this right here
We'll call this right here
that, let that, let that, let that, let that go
This ain't a game like tic-tac-toe
Seen better man get snaked 'pon road
All by somebody they call bro
Continental Trailways blues
Well rollin' out for Houston, man we're finally rollin' now
Try to get some sleep and listen to that highway sound
I guess
Illinois
But not bad, not bad for a good ole boy
Well he's a little league coach and a junior college grad
A volunter fireman and a full-time dad
Not Bad
is Parson Brown
He'll say "Are you married?"
We'll say "No, man
But you can do the job when you're in town"
Later on we'll conspire
As we dream by
and cry a little bit of these working man blues
[ piano + guitar ]
Well hey hey workin' man workin' man like me
I ain't never been on welfare that's one
You'll just never do it
And these are the blues of time
And the blues of a woman
And a man thinkin' of her
As time goes by
There is nothin' I can do
Well I ain't fucking having it
I'm about to handle it
Bout to knock your lights out
Quick someone get a candle lit
Oh that interview we had?
Motherfucker
and beat in the fiery heat
By the hand of a man, whose name was Dan, Dan the blacksmith
Well once I was a sword, many years ago
And my blade was broad,
Hey man what r u really into huh?
the elusive butterfly has just tiptoed by my door
my buddy likes the yankies
shesaid hey tibone wots the score
i
You ain' gonna git lots o'pity
Dig, when why'are bothered by the blee bop blues
Dig this, turn the faucet off'n you'll stop blues
Then dig this,
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