Lyrics:
we've missed
It's hard to write a happy song
With you not my chick
You see there's no such thing as destiny
We all get to write our own history
For every
And the punk police can't fade me and maybe
We can have peace someday, G
But right now I got my mind set up
Lookin' down the barrel of my nine, get up
'Cause
she did say
ch you may not be a king or prince
But you'll always find a way
My father took me hunting
When I was just a child
We braved stormy
doing fine but then they never put the time in
I try to hide my cold side like when I flip my pillows
Some of the the songs I write are real
Because
(Maybe in this song, you shouldn't start by saying)
Nigga, I said it, I know that you mad
I've emptied the clip over friendlier jabs
You mentioned
On the Wings of a Snow-White Dove for her
We'll take the shortcut curves through Sleepy Hollow, maybe stop and write a song
About the respite of one neon sign
You're the Prince of Peace
You're my everything
Be praised in the heights
Be praised in the depths
Let Your glory be our rest
A faith song we raise
To show
In the cold of the evening, they used to gather.
Neath the stars in the meadow, circled near the old oak tree.
At the times appointed.. by
Do you want to open up the window
We can watch the weather go by
Let's forget about the reason why not
It's always difficult to talk about it
I will
oh I
This is my canvas
I'ma paint it, paint it, paint it, how I want it nigga
Fuck you cause there
There is no right or wrong
Only a song
I like
Wommer!
ARTHUR: Go and tell your master that we have been charged by God
with a sacred quest. If he will give us food and shelter for
the night he can
There are babies with guns beheading their friends
In shopping malls around the world
Yet somehow the Kings of Leon still find time to write songs
vicious soul drowns you in domineering eyes
Lonely prince
Take me home
Where all is deep and
monochrome
(I don’t mind)
We’ll shot
If that means what I think it means, we're in trouble, big trouble
And if he is as bananas as you say, I'm not taking any chances
You are just what
booby
Get it right, its Emilio Pucci, hoochie (hoochie)
Write for sci-fi, I'll be pipin' five pies, the cat went like the nine lives
Ten halves, five
to the back of my brain
But I hear it screamin', shoutin'
I can't even think of my own name
All I wanna do is be alone
Write a song, by myself
All I
Counting by nines
Counting by nines
Now you start with the number nine, and as you go along
Jump nine numbers, and practice this song
Here's a neat
banana ɔwɔm...
9th VERSE
Joo, ɛno nso so deɛ Plan bɛn. ""Plan A""
Wo sika ɛsa a na ato Plan. ""Plan B""
Obi de ne car bɛ twa mu a wo se bɔ abɛn...
Memories over my dreams
Memories over my dreams
Fuck do you mean?
I’m African Royalty nigga
Feeling like Prince Hakeem
Where is my Queen?
I’m coming
Yeah, yeah
Fool, you know how we do it
West Side
Comin' from the West Side
Nothin' but the West Side
Ain't nothin' goin on but the bomb ass
all grown up
A different case a different day ..day by day
Depending more on the ways we're raised
And less on the ones that gave us the ways
Illinois
Keira writes
Dear Butcher, my brother Dale and I have a favorite song and you never seem to play it
It's by the Niggers and it's called "He's My
Now this that SpottieOttieDopaliscious, hella vicious
I wonder where is this, hold up
Get the fuck out my business, show enough
We roll up then load
it something just isn't right here
We spend our days chasing dopamine getting by yeah
Generation is feeling just like the sky's falling
Motherfuckin'
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