Lyrics:
press was in my jeans
And any eye for detail
Caught a little lace along the seams
And you were in the parking lot
Subterranean by your own design
Words and music by Robb (Rabbitt) MacKay
Some times when the sun goes down
And I'm lost in some other town
My thoughts may drift away
To Manzanillo
me relapse, yeah) the fuck?
That's how I know that I'm in the studio with the Doggy (where?)
In Californi' 'cause my homie from Long Beach
Always
Seen a man standin' over a dead dog lyin' by a highway in a ditch
He's lookin' down kinda puzzled, pokin' that dog with a stick
Got his car doors
Stick 'em up, stick 'em up, raise 'em up, raise 'em up (swipe)
Drop it off in your fucking face, it's the sawed-off (hey, yeah)
Gotta get my ass
A rock in your shoe
A mind that's often blue
Handshake with a sticky palm
I hope it doesn't stick too long
Living proof that faith is a broken
backwards
They came out something like this
Bright moon tray fiddlee run by through
Around and up to,
That's why I love you so much
That's why I love
Of my feelings
Get the keys
To my jet ski
I wanna sail to the beach
Bail to the East
Out of oil – that’s peak
All I need is the palm trees
Palm Trees
All
Washington
Otis empties out the trunk
On the steps of that celebrated dump
Sleazing by the sea
Bow down to her royal travesty
In her ballrooms heads
Washington
Otis empties out the trunk
On the steps of that celebrated dump
Sleazing by the sea
Bow down to her royal travesty
In her ballrooms heads
tuberculent? wakes
On planet mars
(pretty mean)
Palm ? brokers? looking
Palm ? brokers? looking
Pretty mean
Your past out past by the fire (? black coal? )
(Heads Carolina, tails California)
I was out with the boys, catchin' up in a neon light
Didn't know 'til we walked in it was karaoke night
She
The signal's far from what you can be
'Cause air traffic controls the landing
Yeah, yeah yeah yeah
You won't succeed tryna learn me
Stick to the roads in
Oh, hello, Mr. Soul, I dropped by to pick up a reason
For the thought that I caught that my head is the event of the season
Why in crowds just
them sticks, so don't spazz out
Don't you pull back up, nigga 'cause you assed out
We gon' take everything that you got in your house
Know I play
A lonely mother gazing out of the window
Staring at a son that she just can't touch
If at any time he's in a jam, she'll be by his side
But he
calm, calm, calm
Lyrics for lyrics, calm
Yeah, hear me on the radio, wah gwan?
See me on the TV, hi mum
Murk MCs when the mic's in my palm
Lyrics
lovin in your oven
Bake it off, break it off 'til it gets soft
Passion fruit, pussy cat, want to touch it off
In and out, fragrance patience, Hershey's
I'm going MIA down in MIA
Take that A1A to where the palm trees sway
My little hideaway
Hello, land of Corona
White beaches, flora and fauna
I'm
to let me know.
I was chopping down a palm tree
When a friend dropped by to ask
If I would feel less lonely
If he helped me swing the axe.
I said: No,
be so happy I will kiss my mother inlaw
Children by the dozen in and out the bamboo hut
One for every palm tree and coconut
Hurry up now
All
to let me know.
I was chopping down a palm tree
When a friend dropped by to ask
If I would feel less lonely
If he helped me swing the axe.
I said: No,
Back in the day when man he paved the way
Fell in temptation, sin spread through the nation
Lead me salvation, and pierce the palms of holy hands
at night and I still feel
The same fire in my heart I felt out in that field
I'm proud of the house we built
It's stronger than sticks, stones,
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