Lyrics:
page from Bris
He told me he saw Sean and two chicks followed by four whips
Somewhere in the Florida sticks
It's a set up
Tell the crew to keep their
Dirty boots
Dirty coasts
Piled up
By the door
Lights are low
Jukebox is on
Spinning through
Old cowboy songs singing
Sorry come Sorry go
Nothing
out the sea foam
Giving you the Willie's as I'm stepping off my steamboat
Left here by the gods and beheaded by a rod
I've some deadly black spots
la la la la la la"
Like my father before me
I am a working man
And like my brother above me
I took a rebel stand
He was just eighteen
Proud
going to be
In High, High So-
High So-ci-,
High So-ci-ety.
I want to play for my former pal-
He runs the local jazz festival.
His name is Dexter
going to be
In High, High So-
High So-ci-,
High So-ci-ety.
I wanna play for my former pal-
He runs the local jazz festival.
His name is Dexter
going to be
In High, High So-
High So-ci-,
High So-ci-ety.
I want to play for my former pal-
He runs the local jazz festival.
His name is Dexter
Trouble by the morning air, my fear is the culprit
Pickin' at my brain, hope my bones clear from the vultures
Stumbling I got here, my head back from
downtown Dallas by the
Sight of the grassy knoll
Where the leader fell and a town was broken
Away from the feel and flow of life for so many years
He hears
by His love
The enemy tried to drown me; flooded my life with misery
But God wouldn't let it, He wouldn't let it take me down
He rescued me
I'm gettin' paid off rap
Niggas lying in they songs
I just state all facts
Sick I called my nigga phone
And he can't call back
Use to middleman chickens
This song’s for Robert Johnson Cause he sang the blues
This song’s for Robert Johnson Ain’t got nothing to lose
Young Robert Johnson died a long time
And a crazy old butcher was he
He said, ""I care more for my pots and my pans
Than I cares for the bottom of the sea!"" CHORUS
Then up spoke the parrot of our
them horses run
Cut a path through the grass yelling, "Kiss my ass!"
With a middle finger in the wind
We laughed, we drank, every now and then I think
to the death, we keep a tight clique
A couple felons, ain't no tellin' when they might flip
I got a homie that's crooked but took the straight path
He turned
can’t have my soul
He can’t have soul, He can’t have my soul
You already know I’ve been down this lonely road
The path may be narrow
The cliffs may be
Chorus
cin't this life such a tragedy
Man it's really messed up - it messed wit my sanity
Though He's workin' hard - just to make a better man of me
child
Ephesians 3:16 is proof God's strengthening your inner man by your faith in Jesus
Its all in the cost He paid His blood is the path through
the waiting, never see the bacon
Gotta get to waking, now I know that I won’t be aided
I can see real clearly now if I wanna go up I gotta make my own path
My
fire
Fresh, he got that fire
Girl, holla at my nigga if you want that Oscar Meyer
He got that fire
Shit, he got that fire
Girl, holla at a nigga if
sing it all day
This song is my prayer
I give to only You
It can't compare to the gift from You, oh
See, He gave us His love, He gave us His Son
Hands up hands up
Ringa ding ding dong
Where do I belong
I wanna write the song
That will right the wrong
Hands up hands up
Ringa ding ding dong
I'm just making my way through the green
Old glory helped construe
I travelled the country
Let the waters guide me
As the rain came down like Genesis
We
cannot?
A child chasing
Fish in a pond
Watching you is my reward
Wish you could see you with my eyes
Two lovers, an old time movie
A kiss right before
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