Lyrics:
alright
She's leaking on my shoulder again
Well, Bella lies and that's my type
I wish that I could hold
She wants to live in LA
Where every dog has
(Ah, you sick asshole, let me go)
(Somebody, please, help)
(Oh my God, please help me, oh)
(It fits perfect)
Better watch out, sucker, now I
card games with the old men in the club car
Penny a point ain't no one keepin' score
Pass the paper bag that holds the bottle
Feel the wheels rumblin'
the money,"
"I would, but I don't have the time," Fuck that, you gotta do it man
You gotta do what makes you happy, you have live selfishly in that aspect
the springtime
I never seen Frank again
'Cept one rainy night he blew by me on grainer
Shouted my name and disappeared in the rain and the wind
They found
, really, it held it up off me
So that's one time it saved my life
The way, the way I came by the name of Lucille,
I was Over in Twist, Arkansas, I
it up off of me
So that's one time it saved my life
The way, the way, I, uh, I came by the name of Lucille
I was over in Twist, Arkansas, I know
Enough to cop six, by the house on the beach
Supply the peeps with Jeeps
Brick a piece
Capiche?
Everybody gettin' cream
No one considered a leech
Think
hand touches your heart
Remember we all played a part in america
To help that banner wave
First clock to be made
In america was created
By a black
names
Freight yards full of old black men
And the graveyards of the rusted automobiles
Good morning, America
How are you?
Don't you know me? I
legal if it's owned by a doctor
Everything you do in private is illegal
Everything's legal if the government can see you
Don't get me wrong, America is
that's 'cause I'm headed to the bank, nigga
Sinatra lifestyle, I'm just bein' frank with ya
I mean, where you think she at when she ain't with ya?
names
Freight yards full of old black men
And the graveyards of the rusted automobiles
Good morning, America
How are you?
Don't you know me? I
reports world news as
They report about me, we're in trouble
Are you saying that
No, wait, let me finish have you thought of
The chance I'm taking by
Freight yards full of old black men
The graveyards of the rusted automobiles
Singing good morning America, how are you?
Saying, don't you know me I
and all the martyrs
For the secret life of Frank Sinatra
But none of these things have come to pass
In America the law is a piece of ass
I`m a deportee
gats that blow the wall out, clear the mall out
Fuck the fallout, word to Stretch, I bet they pussy
The seven digits push me, fuckin real, here's
and all the martyrs
For the secret life of Frank Sinatra
But none of these things have come to pass
In America the law is a piece of ass
I'm a deportee
don't do that in my music, man, I'm tired of you saying that!
We've got white-collar people trying to grab our style
Saying we're too nasty and we're
For the secret life of Frank Sinatra
But none of these things have come to pass
In America the law is a piece of ass
Deportee
So it's Schnapps,
so we die by the guns, kids
They tell me not to roll with my Glock
So now I gotta throw away
Floating in the black Benz, trying to do a show a day
and back up off him
Kweli spruce to the tree, Bruce to the Lee
The real emcee, that your favorite rapper used to be
One by one I knock 'em out like Schoolly
"In world news today: officials agree that rapper Brad Jordan, alias
Scarface, must be stopped
After being monitored by Secret Service agents for
could see the plot
And claimed that we could not (All right)
Just how blind, America?
Just as Vietnam exploded in
The rice, snap, crackle, and pop
Could
.jpg/228px-Frank_Sinatra_(1957_studio_portrait_close-up).jpg "Frank Sinatra")
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