Lyrics:
to my words
Somewhere when the band is gone
And the music of my song is just right for lovers
You're what I want more than anything else
I love you, yes
it from here
Don't sweat that, sounds bump from Marcy to Lefrak
To that project in DC where my man caught his death at
Over my years I've seen
Call me up to Your side
Draw me up to Your light
Let it blind me
Lord, refine me
Refine me out of my mind
Music by Peter Furler / Lyrics by Peter
and sick
Because I drive like a maniac on the streets
And I don't give fuck 'cause I've got the beats
Got my nuts swingin' from left to right and
Right
the name, Dogg Pound's the gang (pump, pump)
If it ain't one thing it's a motherfucking 'nother
Word to my granny and my daddy, and my mother (pump, pump)
Running from the madhouse, they won't take me back
Got the medicines to give me what I need
Yes I'm burning up but music is my drug
Doesn't matter if I
Music industry plankton kissing my ass
And the million dollars I made last year
It was one of the few really
Important things that I've been blessed with
America, God bless you if it's good to you
America, please take my hand
Can you help me underst
Yesterday I got a call like
From my dog like 101
Yeah, Let's go
I love the sound that the Seven-Sixty-Seven makes it when takes off
And imma A-list rapper at the top of my... UH
I love the sound
Shout out to my man, Green from Motown
But we comin' back to Brazil to feel
The type of things that's real, yo, everybody chill and just
Lá-laiá
'cause time will tell
Got a date with destiny
She's more than a girl
Don't much good come from me, but my music
Is a gift given from God so I'ma use it
I
favorite spot
Plus I like it there, 'cuz I got love on the list
High powered juice, where I don't even get frisked
Walk up in the place and get love from
Whoa, wish this was a Metallica concert
I wish that it was music when
They walk in the building
Someone ring the alarm
We sound like rock and roll
We
I'm the uncle, hell, future of the funk
Turn my joint up, find out why I'm different from all these chumps
And tell your favorite rapper that I'm
out always (Hootie Hoo)
Now playing these bitches is my favorite sport
But ain't no game when they be calling your name in the court
Oh, it's Saturday
you're just my type
You're the kind
You're the kind whose spirits are runnin' free
Let's take a sip of some cold, cold wine
And dance to the music
(Words and Music by Joan Baez)
It's walking to the battleground that always makes me cry
I've met so few folks in my time who weren't afraid to die
stupid, once again, you got the sound of the
Underground. Baby dope is in the house.]
[Boyyy!!]
[Are we puttin' things in check, Baby D?]
[Too
talking to God, I know what I've been doin' G
Do you know how I be embarrassed?
My prayers sound like Ben Stiller's on Meet the Parents
And I ain't good,
stupid, once again, you got the sound of the
underground. Baby dope is in the house.]
[Boyyy!!]
[Are we puttin' things in check, Baby D?]
[Too stupid
out here winnin', brought my dogs from out the reservoir (hoo)
And I'ma let 'em bark, before you ready, my set will start
We forgot our roots before
and graphic grammar
My verbal murder strech from Alaska to Alabama
Get touched by my Arm and Hammer
All across the planet niggas crumble like granite
You make me reckless, reckless everyday
You make me reckless
Standin' by the disco floor
Spot this girl
My heart jump and move
Yeah, yeah
pack ya track and do 5 flat in your Dodge son
Now let my canine backtrack the copy-cat
Your night life is up, so what you had, you gotta sound track
.jpg/225px-Dave_Brubeck_(1964).jpg "Dave Brubeck")
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