Lyrics:
world, so I stay in mine
And niggas don't cross the line, niggas stay in line
Like welfare, I'm St. Elsewhere
Hotter than a devil, nigga, hell yeah
and movin'
I'm in Argentina wiping my tears full of confusion
Water in between us, another peer's been executed
History repeats again
Make amends, then
hands
Just did a stick-up, just got picked up
One dead punk, killed by the man
New York New York big city of dreams
And everything in New York
limit party don't stop
All I gotta do is squeeze the right
Squeeze when it's right in the heat of the night
Told two niggas better defeat the world fo
this cold ass world
Life unfolds, I unload to keep my sanity
I guess it's just the B-I T-C-H in me
Armageddon, Lord
Know that I won't fly by that lesson
I own a mansion, but live in a house
A king-size bed, but I sleep on the couch
I'm Mr. Brightside, glass is half full
But my tank is half empty,
Hardly a reverend, but I'm always gon' thank the Lord for the blessings
In life, I learned that takin' losses is a part of the lesson
I fathered you
(you're on the line girl)
Hey DJ (on the request line girl)
Play a record by my favorite band
This is a request Mr. Radio Man
Just one desire from
the forty cal' is full and I'm waitin'
No matter which county I'm in DeKalb, Cobb, Fulton, or Clayton
Muah baby, you know who it is, the kiss of death
If
Hong Kong is up for grabs, London is full of Arabs
You could be in Palestine, overrun by the Chinese line
With the boys from the Mersey and the Thames
I own a mansion, but live in a house
A king-size bed, but I sleep on the couch
I'm Mr. Brightside, glass is half full
But my tank is half empty,
is adored by the world
This album has some lovely samples of
Beatles music it has, for instance
Eight new titles wrought by the incomparable
John
I've been having hallucinations
I got style, I know the routine
Y'all punks popping junk can't join my team
I got style, I know the routine
Armstrong
And I say to myself, what a wonderful world
But what the hell was so wonderful 'bout pickin' cotton in the farm
Mr. Slave Man
The harder they
classmates want to punk him
So with tears in his eye
He catch him in a ride
And told his old man he went hunting
And he felt so free
Like his destiny
Lay
Your ass the same
When it's you against the world
Tell me who do you trust
Some punk bitch that want to be
In love on a bus
Yeah my hustle done changed
And I got the beat for ya
Bumpin' in your trunk like a hump of funk punk
You want to jump but your jump got skunked
Pick 'em up ref, eight count his
to kick 'em out
Silent wars in my head, it's more to go around
Man, huh (shit)
Repent for my sins then I turn around
By next weekend, do it again
floor
Used to buzz em in then meet him right by the first door
That was 'prolly a year before I went on my first tour
Friendship was worth more than
hands
Just did a stick-up, just got picked up
One dead punk, killed by the man
New York New York big city of dreams
And everything in New York
who knew I'd be Black Swan?
World in my palms, ironically I am the Globetrotters' best
'Cause I didn't drop the ball
Told niggas when I was sixteen
the fuck you recordin' for, Nick Jr?
(The game ain't changed) It just got harder
Plus we sponsored by Laze, Dame Dash and Mr. S. Carter
Brownsville (yep),
boy
[Verse 1-DJ Paul:]
Now as I run through tha trees with my infiltry
I got my M16 and my artilary
I got my full blooded soldiers in tha back
Sleepy hollow half assers can't master half the stature
Thought it's me vs the world but turns out I missed the rapture
Cancer for the rapper in asshole no
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