Lyrics:
By the fleet, ain't even sleep in a week (in a week)
Rich city stunner, I get cold in the summer
I got money so long lookin' like a phone number
I
Blow the whistle, baby you're the referee
You put it down like New York City, I never sleep
Wild like Los Angeles, my fantasy (Chris Brown)
Hotter
and turn her down the rocky road,
And all the way to Dublin, whacks fer al de da!
In Dublin next arrived, and thought it such a pity to be so soon
five
Hunt the hare and turn her down the rocky road
And all the way to Dublin, whacks fer al de da
In Dublin next arrived
And thought it such
Go to the city away from the land, stand in a line
Where they stamp your hand, wind up at a dance
You want to energize, is it just by chance?
Blow the whistle, baby you're the referee
You put it down like New York City, I never sleep
Wild like Los Angeles, my fantasy (Chris Brown)
Hotter
the bridges of the city
Hanging in the air by steel and stone
She says, it's peaceful where she's living
The lights of the golden gate will lead her home
Wilson, Wilson
Wilson, Wilson
Wilson
Once upon a time there was a mountain
That rose out of a vast green forest
And in the forest there were birds
dreams of Caprices
Drove by the teachers, even more by polices
How'd he get the cash? The day his father passed away
Left him with a lil' somethin',
Street
In July
Sweet pushcarts gently gliding by
The great big city's a wondrous toy
Just made for a girl and boy
We'll turn Manhattan
Into an isle
bitches
You see? if your dog green its bad bidness
You see? if its all green, they all switching
We lost, and by all means, we all missing
Don't start
dreams of Caprices
Drove by the teachers, even more by polices
How'd he get the cash? The day his father passed away
Left him with a lil' somethin',
conspire
As we dream by the fire
To face unafraid
The plans that we made
Walking in a winter wonderland
Silver Bells
Silver Bells
Hear them ring
pretty girls
Village and city girls by the quayside
Bless you, bless you, all of you pretty girls
Watching and waiting by the sea
Bless you,
The old maid's a waitin' for leap year to come the crooner's just waitin' to sing
The old cow's standin' by the Bull Durham sign
Just waitin' for
Yeah
We've been up here in this city
Livin' in the grease and grime
Girl it's a doggone pity
We ain't been gettin' any time
I've been preachin'
bargained for
Six-pack weasels pumped up by their own press releases
Till the capital ceases
Ain't no difference tween black and white
Except the green
John Deere green
The end of a bunch of gravel driveway
Out here doing our own thing
Out in the middle where the hard work meets hard living
Out in
On a golden autumn day, an a golden autumn day
Who would think this could happen in a city like this
Among Blake's green and pleasant hills,
And we must
a crew cut, he was lean and he was handsome
And my mother wore a sash of yellow roses on her gown
They would walk me down from Green Street
Pass
I cross the Green Mountain
I sit by the stream
Heaven blazing in my head I
I dreamed a monstrous dream
Something came up
Out of the sea
Swept
People walk the streets
They walk with you and me in the city
The lights turn from red
They turn from red to green in the city
We watch the day
As it
job
And run's a big machine
He don't miss the farm
Or the fields of green
Now the city's just a prison
Without fences
His job is just
A routine
the city is plunged into darkness
By an unpredicted rolling blackout
The White House always blames the governor
Sayin' 'The solution is to vote him out'"
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