Lyrics:
the walls
There's a devil waiting outside your door
He's weak with evil and broken by the world
He's shouting your name and asking for more
There's a devil
Ah yeah! feel the funk bay-be!
That’s right, this is called the basement!
And my man cl smooth kick it for you like this
From the heights, not
backwards
Over half of these hoes had work done
Sayin' they want something real from a man
Just saying it, we being real persons
I hate that it's like this, I
Gather 'round, cats, and I'll tell you a story
About how to become an All American Boy
Buy you a gittar and put it in tune
You'll be rockin'
going down
Tear your frown Coz we're going down
Into a Lockdown
Anybody tell me if this is real
They feed the rich steal a poor man's meal
Walking
which says "God Bless All Here"
His guitar sounds like a wardrobe, and it's out of tune at that
His singin' voice it ranges from a sharp to a flat
He's
Don Lowance, the man who plays guitar with me, and I
Were born in a small town
And we kinda think it was a different sort of small
Town because in
See, babe I'm gone tomorrow,
Baby follow me down
And I don't know why I have to,
But this man must move on
I love my time here,
Didn't know
This club track freek to the bass
Hold it down till' we drop it
Roll it, give it what you got, ugh
Robbin' on my body baby till' you hit
coming, riding a many mile, mile, mile.
Sister, I implore you, take him by the hand,
Take him to some shady bower, save me from the wrath of this man
you off I'll say I do it
Yeah you mad
Check your tunes but man they're bad
Say you drill believe it
No guns deceiving
Don't have time rudeboy
Bare
O sol vive sem amor
Eu não vivo sem te ver
Quem chega na maré cheia é cantiga de bem querer (This sound like Narcos)
O sol vive sem amor
Eu não
gallant ship
And a fine old man was he
"This fishy mermaid has warned me of our doom
We shall sink to the bottom of the sea"
Then up spoke the cabin-boy
You pushing Agenda’s
We pushing Daisy’s
Growing offended
By niggas that’s
Politicn
Another way to let a rich man make a poor decision
My people money
Theses bottles for me and my team (me and my team)
(Hey girl! Hey girl!)
This table for me and my team (me and my team, my team)
Girl come get up
An ordinary woman and an ordinary man
Made a hurried journey on the road to Bethlehem
The troubled word was waiting to be saved
By a baby on a throne
(That nigga's got that juice homie, that nigga's got the juice)
I would say that I do this in my sleep
But I don't get much
Yeah
I keep my vices
(spoken, by John)
My father died in the '80s, but in the '40s he was quite famous. He played in the Negro Leagues. He was the first white man
I'm up before the sun, ain't no sleep in this life,
Crack of dawn, open up shop, and get my mind right,
Behind the counter, man, it's like my second
all about men in the ladies' room
Unless it's by executive order
It's all about babies and bathrooms to me
Save your liberal jive about the greater
don't win this race Lord, Lord life is hard for a poor man of my race.
So go get me my oak-handled twelve pound sledge and a shaker who knows how to sing.
loves me
He's just a poor boy from a poor family
Spare him his life, from this monstrosity
Easy come, easy go
Will you let me go?
Bismillah!
No, we will
In the whispers of Revelation's night,
A beast rises in the failing light.
Marked by shadows, marked by flame,
On every hand, a whispered name.
a god, let me be strong
I'ma vote for you
Oh, I'ma vote for you
I came from the sticks, we called it the crick
Surrounded by rednecks, I still wanted
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