Search results for 'Old+Saxon' Page #3

is burning and Oliver is gone

Lock the door, Lariston
High on the weather gleam
See how the Saxon plumes
They bob on the sky
Yeoman

planes of our backs
You got a motorway to Saxon towns that’ll never release relax
Or rather, some of us went there
and never got it back
I got a feeling

green, on towering crag,
Our fathers fought before us,
And conquered 'neath the same old flag
That's proudly floating o'er us.
We're children of a fighting

Salvador

Jamie T.

Panic Prevention

2007

of the dance

From here to Salvador, the ladies dance, to fill us reckless sons, with passions of the heart

Well it's a bang bang Anglo Saxons at the disco

Blame it's easier to blame
But point the mirror at ourselves
We're all part of this old money game

Mmm-mm-mmm this old money game
Mmm-mm-mmm

Dear

of classic
Hatin', this track is madness
I remember back when I
Was a token Anglo-Saxon
But they ain't loved me for my raps then
Uh uh but now, they feel me

scarier than the rapture
Niggas is out her switching up faces like the Jackson's
They was my niggaz but now they more Anglo Saxon
My raps be more creative

Lift MacCahir Óg your face
Brooding over the old disgrace
That black Fitzwilliam stormed your place
Drove you to the Fern
Grey said victory was sure

mangled by a hundred ugly, angry, Anglo-Saxon's

[Chorus]
Tiger style
Tiger style

I don't like this new shit but, what the fuck do I know?
White

Pimps (Free Stylin' at the Fortune 500 Club)

The Coup

Genocide & Juice

1994

syphillis
But no need for prophylactics
I'mma up you on some mean old mac shit
Ain't buff, but my green gots amino acid
Keep my hoes in check, no

almost got taken out when Michael died……Jackson…… I hated when turned that Anglo Saxon…..please God I hope he died loving all his blackness, hatred is

lowkey lower than no thing

Caught in a circle of phonies and all my homies
I'm caught in a circle lonely
A ghost to the old me
Homie you don't know me
I'm

one I won for all its not mistaken
lil shiver on me timbs got me shakin
Man my ex could mark the spot where we didn't take it baby she old

Ok my head

like Ms. Jackson
Don't introduce me to her if she look like Toni Braxton
I had a fine yellow bone black and Anglo Saxon 
She thought that she gone smoke

if she like Ms. Jackson
Don't introduce me to her if she look like Toni Braxton
I had a fine yellow bone black and anglo saxon
She thought that she

get to it.

Big old Ted, no it ain't like that.
Bounce that check to the dude in back.
Because we're all getting fucked, oh who you ask?
You and me

hundred years we've
Fought you without fear
And we will fight you for eight hundred more

No, we're not British, we're not Saxon
We're not English
We're

Eradicate Africans that sold Africans to Saxons
And forced black men to pay taxes
Attack a wack bitch with counter tactics
Split your bullet proof chases in

ain't mine no more I
Call the shit my Xbox
360, getting nifty with my flow, boy
Hit your grandma, she nicknamed me Old Boy
I put the tequila in my

off demons, trynna find peace
Always had an attitude, no one messed with me
Lived a lonely life, there’s too much to see
12 Years old, was practically

old like pardna
Big gun big gun
Run like Donna
Run-trip and bun like Easter
Big batty gal
Get a forward Jesus
Look how she wine up
Fine up
Yard gal, say

One hundred stars are burning bright above the old Slieve Bloom tonight
One hundred snow white horses in the March of the Kings of Laois
One hundred

the real but scared to accept it Like churches promoting Jesus with AngloSaxon complexion Some shit you got to question but never my pen none as lethal

paradise like relaxing black
Latino and Anglo-Saxon
Armani exchange the reins
Cash, Lost Tribe of Shabazz, free at last
Brand new whips to crash then we