Lyrics:
Bobby he is not dead
He's living in Alaska by the name of Fred
Adolf Hitler I'll have you know
Works a camera on the Cosby show
And I read it in
was really by my side
All the times that I cried nigga didn't you realize
That you not fuckin' with me, I'm that motherfuckin guy
To the shit young
I would take your word like the hand up on the Bible
Even stood by you when you were suicidal
We were old school, with-standin' all the cyclones
Been
I was on my way back from her house
Stuck in the train station
Watching the typhoon outside
The worst night of my life
Somehow got me inspired
So I
To whom used my boy George quaff else
By the old fool's side that begot him?
For whom did he cheer and laugh else
While Noll's damned troopers shot him?
a memory would suffice; it would be nice
I would love to see your face, it would be tight
Who are you? How old are you? How tall are you?
What do you
fucked by me now before your skin is old
Plus your ass gets crooked too
So lay down on the fuckin floor so I can get a better look at you
Obey the master
18 years old everything that I owned in the back of that truck
I put a dip in my mouth and I headed straight out outta Podunk
1st Chorus:
Goodgye,
is real
Every night, I lie and wait, to be taken away
Where your ghost is real
Down by her old house
She knows I've come for her
She'll dream
had to roam to get here and I'll hitch back
Get a cab to my mother's house
See my old man and grab a six pack
Tell my brother I love him
And give
Running around in circles
Watching as the trees and houses passes by
All this is waiting on you
Walking around in silence
Thinking 'bout the one
At the local bar
On a Wednesday afternoon
With the same old faces
That never had the guts to move
And I live back in my parents' house
With no clue what
my soul's at peace
Stars fill the sky, wonders never cease
The wind passes by, the house barely moans
There really is no place like home
There
Fell asleep on the hardwood floor
3 o'clock in the afternoon
I awoke to a pale blue sky
And the song of an old friend
Took me back to our life,
bankrolls
It don't make sense if it don't make pesos
These wack niggas is gettin' away with murder
But that's old news like the OJ case, yo
Nigga, me vs
this morning
Jogging backwards in orange shorts
Is sitting on my sofa
Being boring about sports
I wake up in my old house
But my daughter's here with me
Switch up the vehicle
Change the plates and scrape off the serial
Limousine tint, man can't see me at all
Old school car thief, I could start cars
shoulder
Weight on my shoulder
Walk the walk about it
Talk the talk about it
You the top spot
Make the block hot
When you drive by my house
Take
Rio En Medio
Let me tell you how to get to a place that I know
Got to swerve down the curve of an old dirt road
Dogs standing in the dust /
of tests
I remember waking up in a house without no heat
Late December in Chicago last year was on repeat
Had to be two below zero kind felt like frozen meat
Her eyes are red, it looks like she's been up all night
I met her by the water, that's where she spends most of her time
And I wish she knew she
a media whore, happy go lucky ex convict, with charm sensitivity
A house with a chimney
No cavities I'd never smile tattoo my neck
Buy a Rolex curse a lot
the bitches and henchman at the dough with them pistols lay it down nigga you know why they came to get you.|Get rich or die tryin, live by the iron, you could
The air here is cold and the memories are old
Like the occupants of the house I thought I knew
Where my past resides and where I grew.
Don't you
Discuss these old old house by peter rowan Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In