Lyrics:
Worship Him with rhythm like King David
Strummin' on a harp so he
Could soothe the savage beast
Word goes out to Humble Beast, Infiltrate
Collision, RMG,
you see me bitch I grind more
And every time you see me I'm in grind mode
My dream is to make a million in a day
My dream is to make a mill by twelve
we slag off today
A million pounds will be given away
Paul McCartney - come on down
With crocodile tears to irrigate this ground
Make
twerk it ooo that body hella perfect
She got me feeling dazed in a million kinda ways
Ooo I gotta have you but I swear you wanna play
(Chuckles)
Ooohhh
with old news
I been sitting inside
Doing work makes the time go by
I'm a sitting stone, but my eyes don't shine
I'm a pretty boy, but my heart still
shocked
We got legends by the dozen so just take your time
Bout to get groupies by the millions who be super fine
Check this brand new flow that ages like
of straw and
patient animals standing around. The mother nods by the side
of the child. Suddenly she wakes from her lightish doze, sees
them, shrieks
behind, it said
"You turned off David Letterman, now you must die!"
Man, I ain't even wait to see who it was
Broke outside in my drawers and screamed, So
Wake up with some money in my pockets
Arnold & Son on my watches
I had a dream that I was swimming in the ocean
Mojave Desert, Testarossa driven in
How can we achieve anarchy if we don't know what it means?
Do we even want anarchy that illusionistic dream?
They say they see no reason for
the tight framing of David Levinthals' close-ups
There is no human or doll "body" to establish a sense of scale
The dream house loses its status as miniature
that outlives him
Like Malcolm did, we are out of sync
And out of time by the sound of things
Arms long like Dhalsim is how to win
Best murder machine
get me started
You philosophizing, boy you sound retarded, yeah…
The scriptures gave me mo’ knowledge than college, college
The scriptures gave me mo’
no drive-by's
We walked over
COB bandana tied to the end of the AR
Iller than they are, rhymes so sick
Give 'em the day off
This is the chaos, Nicolas
[Chorus]
[Verse Three: Wyclef Jean]
Dance, she's in the city of Gods
Dancin' the capoeira
I see her in Brazil, eyy!
Her cry, sound like 7 million
died in your sleep
Your face incomplete
One million miles away
My thoughts afloat in speculation
You fill my dreams like sandman
With the taste
pushing all the groceries
One in a million
Was told It was only a dream
One in a million
Was told I could never get chose
One in a million
A lottery
what I say
I wanna dream like a dreamer
And play like a child
I wanna sing with the sounds of a million angels
I wanna dance with the feet of a million
Uh yeaa chek it out
Eh yo, its time to change ur routines
Backed wen i wus age 18 with a dream
Back wen i wus bringing sumthin fresh to the scene
(Look, my headspace right now, it's just not good for you and me
But I still want you! -- In my life...)
You smell like summer, you sound like rain
they rue the day,
For by this sacred German slain, ten of these dogs shall pay."
They drove the cowering peasants forth, women and babes and men,
chopper sound off
Five million dollars, put everybody on my roll call
Seventy thousand dollars missin', stolen by my roll dog
Boozilla, should I zip
the same damn dreams
And while I got you, there's a link in my bio
They say it sounds as bad as your little cousins recital
They say it sounds white like I'm
the family and blood of David
And God looked in his heart
They dwell in a peaceful carpenter’s home
Where business was on hammer and nails
They took good care
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