Lyrics:
bored
You people just can't see the plot at all
Come on in, welcome to the freak show
Walk on by, tell all your friends you don't know
Take me to a party
Welcome to america where shit ain’t never been free
Welcome to america we’ll kill thee we’re shitty
Welcome to america where shit ain’t never been
green stuff
Provided to you by sack man
Pacman how in the fuck do you think we gon' do that, man?
Ridin' round Old National on eighteens without no
the bathrooms are
(We're just eye fuckin', eye fuckin')
Can you drive a stick, I wanna know, I'll be your car
Hey, I see that look in your eyes, I wanna
of the screen and barely move me
We hard-hittin', directin' and starrin' in it
The one man on the planet that'll drive off of the Grand Canyon
Hop out
shinin' like chrome
Signin' tit's in my shows on
Chicks I don't know
Rebel flag's flyin', four wheel drive
Back road ridin', bitch
Welcome to the country
One must admit that by and large
Upholders of the British Raj
Don't shine in conversation as a breed
Though Indian army officers could read a bit
The Arrival
Leaving by the same door from which he had come in,
He finds some sort of freaks ghetto on the other side.
When they catch sight
With Christmas Lights
What a welcome sight
In winter's darkest nights
Now I know why
When we were kids, we'd take a drive
Brave the cold in the backseat
looking for a party we the plug
Smell that aroma in the air that's the BBQ cuz
Stationed somewhere between shade netting and some trees
Catch me by
of the rhymes I say
I'm selling sex rhymes by the pound
You horny MC's
I watch you getting around my agh shit
The skills to pay the bills
I got the got the got
Hello folks
Welcome to Crime Time
Lost Angeles irgendwann spät Abends
Er war einer jener Abende
Nicht viel vom Glanz des Rodeo Drive übrig
on the outside, love me in the inside
Suck me in the back seat while I let a friend drive
Half a pound two stacks, half a unit 10-5
I stay out here by Sully so you
the chopper in the trunk of that (grraow)
Kidnap the nephew, where yo uncle at?
(Kidnap) sellin', the junkie stepped on
Like a welcome mat (go)
Feel like
[Car approaches]
[Toll Booth Willie:] "Welcome to Worchester. Dollar twenty-five please."
[M1:] "Hey, how ya doin' Toll Booth Willie?"
[Toll
the heat toted
And teflon tips keep the .44 loaded
Straight quoted in nine-trey, by the dime
Now we connected
He said, "Mack, when you westsidin`
I'm cutting lights out like it's bedtime
These other rappers lukewarm like red wine
The truth hurts so please don't rub it in
I'm not signed yet, so
Three Palms Motel
Words and music by Devin Scillian (BMI)
A motel in the desert,
A day's drive from anywhere.
You're out here at the beginning
can't see them
In the land of freedom there's a city of demons
Caught in the Dark Age
Welcome to Hell-A
Welcome to Hell-A
You'll go insane
Welcome
hard
The backyard is where we get our scrap on
The black car drive by then you get capped on
Whats up pimping? It's P and Snoop
With Dre
I was born in the cross hairs without a pot to piss in
Where niggas get smoked over Jordans and their Pippens
Welcome to California, nah, it ain't
to know you, and by way of welcome
Pleased to meet you
We laugh and cry as lovers will
And howl at many moons
Said the waiter as he wrote the bill
to the world!
Welcome to the world
Perhaps in the past life I was the dog
And you sat explaining to me
The contents of this universe
And all there was and all
It was really dark by sudden storm.
I had a romantic drive with a pretty girl.
We lost our way and we got wet in the rain.
Found our way
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