Lyrics:
And I might shoot his ass in the face, straight up
Don't believe in hoe problems so I leave these hoes
You did that time by yourself so you don't need
get back"
I helped win sweet victory
With my little plough and hoe
Now, I want you to tell me brother
What you gonna do about the old Jim Crow?
You can hear them as they answer
To that roll call in the sky.
Colonel Travis, Davy Crockett, and a hundred eighty more
Captain Dickinson, Jim
There's a fruit store on our street
It's run by a Greek.
And he keeps good things to eat
But you should hear him speak!
When you ask him
can get wacked
Jim jones the Color of my drank by The way
If you pouring like I'm pouring put Your cups up for me
Ameri all on my jeans
My pants sag
I'm so easy when Jim's in
A true blessing from the corn's field
We can have fun the whole night
God damn it, it always ends bad.
We feel so
a wash
But you can't clean your name
You're now called Jimmy
You'll be Jimmy just the same
The keys are in a bag in a chest by the door
One of Jimmy's
Stores 'em up in gelatin
He can babble on and on
All about Jim Morrison
Searching for the promised land
Love can ruin a ladies man
Sonny Liston got
[Chorus]
Slow down cause I can't take the heat, slow down
(Slow down baby, slow down baby)
It's wicked in these streets
Slow down, cause I can't
There's a fruit store on our street
It's run by a Greek.
And he keeps good things to eat
But you should hear him speak!
When you ask him
I really did this thing live in the streets
Don't make me go Instagram Live in the T
We was doing opp block in designer
Now me and bro do 90
to put his ass in stir
We want to pin this triple murder on him
He ain't no gentleman Jim"
Rubin could take a man out with just one punch
But he
past my prime
But pour some Jim Beam whiskey
And I’ll show you a real big time
You don’t need reservations
Drop by anytime
The sun is shinin’ in
Time In c Bottle
Songwriters: Jim Croce
Performed By Denny Dorisson
If I could save time in a bottle
The first thing that I'd like to do
Is to save
I'ma test this out right quick on y'all
Now keep in mind I'm an artist and I'm sensitivie about my shit
So y'all be nice about it, alright
Sisters
I had a dream about my man last night
And my man came by the studio
And his name is
Busta Rhymes in effect, Shaheed is in effect
Phife Did-awg is
roo-run-rority ri-run-rority ri-no-ority-an.
Some call me Jim, some call me John,
Begad it's all the same,
But when I'm in the king's hight court
Erwilian is
underboss pull a doublecross
Niggas ain't ready for the holocaust here and now
Want them games people play, catch these bullets over Broadway
I don't eat no ham n' eggs, 'cause they're high in cholesterol
A yo, Phife do you eat em? No, Tip do you eat em?
Uh huh, not at all(again)
I don't
Came walkin' on in through the door
At least I'd never saw her down at Smokey Joe's Café
And I started shakin' when she sat right now next to me
Her
Oh, you don't know the shape I'm in
I just spent 60 days in the jailhouse
For the crime of having no dough
Now here I am back out on the street
You want to pay them pack?
But now you're in the mud, well
I guess you're just the muddy type
Just downplay your part
to match your line of sight
Don't
and I smashed again
Stayed over, now she's about to get attached again
Walls built up around, they come crashing in
Passed out at six A.M., but she's
tired of your Shit
You don't never buy me nothin'
See every time you come around
You got to bring Jim, James, Paul, & Tyrone
See why can't we be by
Discuss these in the jailhouse now by jim croce Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In