Lyrics:
feel the beating of your heart
And my heart
Quiet is the night
And girl you feel so right
In my arms
In my arms
CHORUS REPEAT…
By Gordon Anderson
havin' trouble breathin'
Somebody help me, hear my plead, my battle cry
My psychic told my that its gonna be hard for Brad to die
She told a lie, I
from a woman (yeah, yeah)
I wonder why we take from our women
Why we rape our women, do we hate our women? (Why? Why?)
I think it's time to kill for
DON'T KNOW WHY
I FIND IT SO HARD JUST TO PICK UP THE PHONE AND SAY HI, HOW ARE YA?
YOU'D THINK I DIDN'T HAVE THE TIME, BUT I DO
HEY JOHN
HEY JOHN
YOU'VE
some serious funk
I wouldn't buy you a car, no diamonds and shit
All the time talkin' about your fake-ass gifts
George bought you a ring, John bought
as a youngster
Gotta deal with the roof that I'm under
Even though my moms got it hard
My daddy passed away, now I'm stuck without a father
But times have
Now the time had come for Elzevir and John,
To be sent from Holland's shore,
And to end their days in pain and misery,
To be slaves so far from
Oh, me and my cousin, one Arthur McBride
As we went a-walkin' down by the seaside
Now mark what followed and what did betide
For it bein'
John Brown and his gang of thieves
Had just robbed the bank
They rode fast, they rode hard
Swearing they'd never go back again
Sheriff Parker
on every roof
By the light of the neon moon
Santa wrapped his bag with a dixie-flag
He was havin' the time of his life
And you could hear him call
It's the hard little pistol-packing punk dope smuggler
Lethal when I kill, I go straight for the jugular
Back again to hit ya with the junkyard
Niggas grimy wit' it, slimy wit' it!
[Forte']
Put in the card baby, you gone
Too many hard rappers live for cunan
You knew John was
dome
Leave Breed the fuck alone
We sendin' niggas to the fuckin' cemetery
They got me thinkin', sittin' in the hot spot
I'm straight up havin' hard
various
I gave that bitch $20,000 for charity
Counted me out and I'm back, and I'm havin' it, ayy
I'm from the trenches where I had to get it
I'm so
smoke
In my spare time, write rhymes, and bag ma'
Me and Sticky Fingaz go
Back like Clue's hairline
Just like you hit the spliff too
Hard and burnt your
Ha ha ha ha ha, check out this bizarre
Rapper style used by me, the B.I.G
I put my key, you put your key in, money we'll be seein'
Will reach
time is near, so get your body dropped off
I stopped trustin niggaz since Gotti got caught
It's Bricks keep your wrist covered, or piss colored
By
They're all buying their ticket out and talking the great depression
Our parents had their hard times fifty years ago
When they stood out in these empty
die
Get the fuck up off your ass and stop wastin' your time
Don't get discouraged by no mountain, that shit easy to climb
You gotta do it at your own
dry
Could you find it inna yuh heart
To give me one more bly
I won't abuse the situation
This time I won't lie
By mi nightly conversation
Also mi
And I come from the dark side, so I'm havin' a hard time stayin' on track, man
My mind be racin', and I don't even know what I'm chasin' yet
Been in
Uh
1st & (1st &) 15th (15th)
Woah, uh!
Lupe Fiasco's Food & Liquor
Is lovingly, hand-crafted and done
By the good folks, at 1st & 15th, yeah!
terrible weather
Nobody does it better than I, so approved by Carly Simon
Most rappers is real hard, but still hardly rhymin'
To all, rise and shine, give
go
It's hard to measure the pleasure of havin' you in my presence
Your smile makes me smile, I'll show you my style
You can shop a little bit, I'll
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