Lyrics:
At birth mom and papa called their little boy Ned
Raised him on the banks of a river bed
On a houseboat tied to a big tall tree
A home for my papa
Holla at your boy, boys
When we boys, so we bringin' out them toys
I ain't a lame, on them Dana Dane's
Wiggie, you annoyed man, when the year change,
at birth mom and papa called their little boy Ned
Raised him on the banks of a river bed
On a houseboat tied to a big tall tree
A home for my papa
slowed down by the weight of my necklaces
Parked the Lexus in the projects, bitch, I'm reckless
Extra magazine, hopped on a jet with my Ebony chick
I pulled into Nazareth, was feelin' about half past dead
I just need some place where I can lay my head
Hey, mister, can you tell me where a man
I'm sorry to say that you don't know me
I'm sad in ways you never understood
Each time I try to tell the ugly truth
You always let it pass you by
And expect them not to know what a woman's clitoris is
Of course they're gonna know what intercourse is
By the time they hit fourth grade
They've got
for half a pit - he got knocked
He on lock still controllin' the spot from Comstock
Pop pulled up in the CL5, surprisin' Caine
His man just got
Radcliffe)
Billy Radcliffe owned by the state
From his first breath to the cemetery gate
He was the first boy born in space
Billy Radcliffe
(Billy Radcliffe)
Boy, where are you now
With skin so brown, get out of town
Star of Hope, star of Glory
Shine upon this half made man
To himself, he begs, steals
Well, at birth mom and papa called their little boy Ned
Raised him on the banks of a river bed
On a houseboat tied to a big tall tree
A home for
kna'mean?
Niggas comin' sideways, thinkin' stuff is sweet, man, kna'mean?
Niggas don't understand the four devils
Lust, envy, hate, jealousy
Wicked
knew by the engine's moan
That the man at the throttle was Casey Jones
He pulled up within two miles of the place
There number four stared him straight
A mile and a half on a bus takes a long time
The odor of old prison food takes a long time to pass you by
Day upon day of this wandering gets you
need a scale
Back in high school I used to be the weedman
Quarter ounces, half ounces, what you need, man
Eleventh grade, made my way up to a P, man
and a snare, now the green light to go
I flex a rhyme on a rapper then proceed to wreck
By break this mic in half, then put him in the yolk and snap his neck
bricks
I'm the interstate, man
And the women say "damn"
Them niggas don't say a damn thing
Boy I bet that shotty make you
Bounce like a bed spring
Walking
to stop by and check us out sometime
He looked at me like I'm out my mind
Shook his head like, "White boys don't know how to rhyme"
I spit out a line
and that, what you talking about?
Come on, man, this is just lyrics, blud
Easy, easy, aight, easy, easy
Talking that talk, I was a fucking bad boy in
yeah)
I could pop out by myself, them niggas not gonna get a chance (man what?)
Block war, I got Dede with me, he a block boy (block boy)
Hot boys, got
grade came, I'm pregnant
Shit got frantic and man oh Lord it was a tuff decision
But they decided to abort it
It might have been right it might have
I pulled into Nazareth, was feelin' about half past dead;
I just need some place where I can lay my head.
"Hey, mister, can you tell me where a man
I'll be writing tunes for dabloons
While you struggle
All to catch right up to me
But by that time I double
Everything I've done before
Before you man
pipes to ukulele
It sounds so good you can't sit down
We're dancing at the Céili
All the boys we love so well
So handsome, young and charming
.jpg/300px-Half_Man_Half_Biscuit_(22017516678).jpg "Half Man Half Biscuit")
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