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Search results for 'city by bob welch' Page #7
Yee yee! We've found 436 lyrics and 181 artists matching city by bob welch.
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Bob Marley and Ziggy, my niggas we run the city It's a very thin line, you can candy-paint mine All I want is Chevys and the best kush I could find
B.O.B and T Pain/ huh mane yeah im from the S.E.A/ shot out to the Bay Rest In Peace Mac Dre nigga what Chorus (2x): City slicka to slick for the bity/
Yea Sometimes it be like that Queen City Uh 88 New Yorker no stash box On a back block Cruisin' past the matlocks Can't trust niggas in them trap
Dis be way dat we living Young nigga pop in givenchy I gotta lock on my city Cuzzo was locked in dat prison Cuzzo was locked in dat prison If dem
been feeling like Marilyn Her spirit within me From the same motherfucking city Van Nuys been fucking with Sticky Just like them titties Bouncing on top
This is my time, this is my moment This my shot, this one goes in Still on top, ain't lost focus Tryna drive around the city lookin' pretty in
gangsters That ain't made it back We took gambles To put my city on the map Was in shambles I seen my nigga laid flat But I'm thankful I'm still here Thank
I'm a ninth brigade cook And if you don't know a diet of corn beef and sand, slip a two bob in an old digger's hand There was a time when I married
of Jack the Ripper," what? Nigga please I'ma push you further back than your hairline recedes New York City, don't get it confused Your song
*lyrics written by Bob Geldof *music arranged by The Boomtown Rats
Bobby's goin Digital Hoverin the city inside the Wonder Woman's invisible jet Clouded by the Meth we move undetected in secret society sects,
can't tell But still, you gotta be careful Dudes be so scared they cop pleas by the earful V personally favors, "please don't kill me" Empty out
Yeah, yeah You know how me and 'Ye do, huh, yeah Real people walk in the streets, the streets is talkin' Often it's beef this city never does
Yeah, yeah You know how me and 'Ye do, huh, yeah Real people walk in the streets, the streets is talkin' Often it's beef this city never does
This shit is wicked I can’t play by the rules Been one step ahead I guess that you ain’t hear the news I gottah get it Ain’t no stopping how I
How you niggas tryna play it ?, Did this on my own ain’t have to ask no man for bread, Pull up by that regions now I’m caught up with the feds,
on the block where the fiends got cooked Cops on the watch ... some got knocked Some turned snitch but most got shook Either way it's hustle by any means for pay
tunnel by night to places of safety We'll make a video call when ceilings are falling Paris still in India Narendra fixed it for me All alone, we have
round, my city streets hot, no need for a coat no more... Black 4.5th Underneath when they got it on, if you try them it's on Best believe they blasting
WEAPONS SELLING BLOW, I'M FROM BALTIMORE I walk the streets that all I see, ain't no hope no more All year round, my city streets hot, no need for a coat no
ain't no seaport, but the city's full of Whalers Roll Bob's, printer-paper bams, or freak a black, inhale it Add the suburbs brushing shoulders, see
never get got glue to the gift so what's up dread you couldn't bob to the bass but now you're hooked like a bass head I'm about to show ya contract
she rather have a purse? Why give a bitch an inch When she'd rather have nine? You know how the game goes She be mine by half time, I'm the shit,
I'm dodgin' the barcols like pot holes in Jamaica We cut down the weed, bury the paper on the makers Martin had a dream, Bob got high I still do both
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