Lyrics:
with this energy
I want your heart to conquer me
An experience brand new
I want you to understand
I just want to be your man
And make sweet love to you
deep inside
You're one of a kind, so bona fide
So one of a kind, you're bona fide
Mrs. Bona fide
Heart was open wide
Ready for the mending
Mrs. Bona
bricks, buy a crib for your mama
One too many enemies, they all for the drama
Count your money by the millions, way too many commas
All white Drophead,
a collection of moments from real human experiences
I'm going to share that with you it's pulled directly from my heart
My trials
My tribulations
And I'm just
know other folk can see that
Look that we have in our eyes
Yeah, when you see me
You're supposed to walk on by
But I can feel it in my heart
That
or stutter
Still his mind is menacing away
Yeah Mr. Usher's on the prowl today
He needn't dirty up his hands
He'll twist your heart until you're manic
the key to happiness - hence
Why I'm sick of myself and I need some change
Listen to your wild heart's distress
Don't let your clouded brain play puppets
Yo this is flavor for the non believes
Sit back take a seat and don't forget to pass the weed
And by the way this is all the way live
waiting for your knock on my door
Come out tonight
Oh oh oh
Mr. Midnight
Oh oh oh
Mr. Midnight
Out of the night you're calling to me calling to me baby
Mrs. Krushchev in there with the DAR?
You cannot trust your neighbor or even next of kin
If mommie is a commie then you gotta turn her in
Oh, we're
around
I am Mr.Shoot 'Em Down
I leave hearts on the ground
My love is a weapon
And yes, I use it well
Then I let the rose petals cover up the bullet
Mr. Mixx:
Ghetto Style Dee-Jays!
{Don't touch that stereo!}
{Ghetto} {Bass}
Verse 1: Fresh Kid Ice
What's up, party people, we're back again
about something like that
And by the way your quotes from George Carlin
Aren't really George Carlin
Mr. Rogers never fought the Viet Cong
And Bill
Ladies and gentlemen
May I have your attention, please?
Are your nostrils a-quivering, tingling
As well at that delicate, luscious ambrosial
a naughty, girl you make me high
Close to my heart and you're my bonafide
Love's in my ears and see it in your eyes, my my my how you make me fly
On cloud nine
Your legs or your breasts
Mrs. Fried Chicken, you gonna be a nigga death
Created by southern black women to serve massa' guest
You gonna be a nigga
And I say right about now you are rockin' with the best!
Can I get a hit? Thank you
What you're about to experience is a walk on the Funkadelic
you're broke, they move onto the next dope
And there you are, can't even pay your car note
And when you reminisce, thinkin' how you got dissed
Remember
we're all in Space
You're orthodox, a pillar of your Creed
I'm a Space-alien, or so you've decreed
By the way, Mr. Man, you've got it all wrong,
majesty Mr Rockson
Plenty Brothers wanna drown him
God forbid it damn!
Records after records
For your Souls and Hearts
The family's got chefs writers poets
around
I am Mr.Shoot 'Em Down
I leave hearts on the ground
My love is a weapon
And yes, I use it well
Then I let the rose petals cover up the bullet
Chorus:
(4x) Jack Frost nipping at your nose
(sample of Nat King Cole)
I'm sporting trippled down rain gear.
Dumping on flying rain deer
And that
the hero of the jungle, reaching for the sky.
(Outro)
Raw raw Mr. Lion, we'll sing your song all day,
In the heart of the jungle, where you love to stay.
kippin' out?
Do your duty!
As you make your own bad heart,
That's the way o' life!
You bunk out, I'm sleepin' by myself,
You're too dumb to realize,
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