Lyrics:
folks
On one song she's your African Queen
On the next one she's a joke
And you ain't said no words
That I haven't heard
But that ain't no compliment
It
Let's try and be positive here for a minute, shall we? can you dig brother's and sisters? I'm talking about we're here to spread joy throughout
While shepherds watched their flocks by night
All seated on the ground
The angel of the Lord came down
And glory shone around
Fear not! said he for
SORRY
Words & Music by
Thomas R. COSGROVE
I should have seen the signs,
As silence grows and no one knows,
When words will intertwine,
Words that
the mind is brainwashed
It can't be good cause your mind's the cost
So flip on your Young MC
Or Jazzy Jeff or whatever the case be
Mindless music for
So twenty-four-seven it's the number one stresser
Dealin' with the peer pressure
The pressure, dealin' with the peer pressure
(You gotta find
could shield my reign
You ain't got money for the gas bitch, get out the range
Got welcomed to the game wit' like 4 mil' and change
Nigga's
a gluttonous display of
Endless human stupidity
When it comes down to who's to blame for
The high school murders
In Littleton, Colorado
Throw a rock and you
duke it out like men
I beat you down with every word that flows out my pen
And I was the Green Hornet Bilal'd be Kato
Right by my side kickin up dust
so the dogs can't smell 'em c'mon
Brown paper bag (thank god for that)
Brown paper bag (yo Khaled I'm so focused homie I can see clearly now you
appreciate the opportunity to be alive. And I'm just glad that I, you know, I don't have to slave anymore. You know, 'cause I, music was my love, and because
Hello Chief, my name is Cozy
Am an artist
Can you please help me
Promote my music
Ehen, you said your name is Cozy
I love music
But is your music
bullshit ring
He said yikes, when I pulled out my monster bling
Don't be afraid of the New York street talk
I switch gear all day bro, like you do on your
for words I found none, without a sound
I left the house with a sick smile and took my gun
Now I'm out bugging, whyling, what I'm goin' do?
Call my
blue bitch
Bout to go stupid, that Hollygrove zoo shit
Keep a set of grip plies
For ear pair loose slips
I done said I was too sick
I said I’m too too
three, four, five o clock in the mornin', you know I'm tryin' to see more
{"Alone in the street"} All day, all night, All by myself, you know that I'm all
handle the s***
Searchin' for words I found none, without a sound
I left the house with a sick smile and took my gun
Now I'm out buggin', whylin',
corner's a warm embrace (uh)
So relax and groove to the throwback
Sit down music
For that man in the Corona Ad
Spirit so large you could never bulldoze that
called, for such a time as this!"
You can't resist the change
And you're not condemned by your yesterday
If you can grab hold of your now, and move in your
by far, my rap repertoire
Be the art of murderin' makin' it hard for you to spar
We can chill and puff the ganja, but don't be mad when the
Funk Doctor
and the finger of a thirty-eight
Dust by far, my rap repertoire
Be the art of murderin' makin' it hard for you to spar
We can chill and puff the ganja, but
who couldn't gain control of what life gave him forgive him Lord....though we know not what we do you said you'll love us for it, even though we
Perpetrating, bitches popping Percocet and percolating
Freelance for God, but do the work of Satan, whatever works
I'm clever with the words, if you haven't
evidence for
If these things are what you mean by God
Then I believe in God but I
Don't believe in a personal
God to whom I look for comfort or for a
Natural
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