Lyrics:
Please remember me
Just like the waves down by the shore
We're gonna keep on comin' back for more
'Cause we don't ever want to stop
Out in this brave
the king and the queen went
Back to the green
But you can never go back
There again
Brenda and Eddie had had it
Already by the summer of '75
From
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney
held the gun, he held the light
A cup of coffee and a can of Sprite
The stand was only ten feet high but on top of the world that day
I already knew
a bottle and it goes around
I'm leaving drunk by 4 a.m.
And watch me jump in the golden Benz
Top down with the pokey rims
Now I'm swerving, so you know I'm
(Yo, Pi'erre, yo, Pi'erre)
Ayy, ayy
Niggas ain't gotta respect
Niggas just gotta accept
I put that top left
I love my crodie to death
Mob-mobbin' like a motherf***er
'Tis the season to be servin'
Short than a motherf***er snatched up by one-time
Make a phone call and be back to ball by
it
You got someone you think you know well
It turns out a stranger
The minute you turn your back
You're in it all by yourself
They laugh at your
The doors lift from the floor and the tops come off
By any means necessary, whatever the cost
Even if it means lives is lost
And I can't explain why I just
seven days and nights like a black-top bird he sped
Maintained radio silence 'cept for in his head
And just like his folks did back in '69
He crossed
short but still motherfuck the DA
We play by the rules as they try and crack the code
Combination lock to the kilos that I hold
Leopard print
my soul
With the dope there's no girl
I'm on a one way box to the top
I'm hitting the strip but got a sound that would rally the block
I'm in
to be servin'" "What you doin'?"
"Mob-mobbin like a motherfucker"
"Tis the season, to be servin'"
Short than a motherfucker snatched up by one-time
coffins
In top hats and tails
Fly away, little bird
Fly away, flap your wings
Fly by night
Like the early Roman kings
All the early Roman kings
In
ninety-five
Bumper to bumber rollin' side by side
Maybelline, why can't you be true
Oh Maybelline, why can't you be true
You've done started back doing
make it to the top, well he probably did and dropped
Struck down by the strength of the will
Ain't nothin' left here partner, just the dust of a plague
The doors lift from the floor and the tops come off
By any means necessary, whatever the cost
Even if it means lives is lost
And I can't explain why I just
Back beat boogie got a hold on me
Make me wanna jump and shout
Twisting like a top, I never want to stop tonight
You surely look like a magazine
At the top of the stairs he finds a chamber. It is almost a hemisphere with a great many doors all the way round its circumference. There is a large
broke
Got my aim from the scope, got the game by the throat, damn
Okay, you popped up on me by surprise (yeah, yeah)
You see I never took you for
the tree tops
Like a whispered voice in my ear
I will always be there for you
I'll always be here
I bless the wings that bring you
Back across the shore
If
The gold of Cortés
The jewels of Pizarro
Will seem like mere trinkets
By this time tomorrow
The gold we find here
Will dwarf them by far
Oh,
brought up?
I remember I couldn't afford a Ford Escort
Or even a four-track recorder
So it's only right that I let the top drop on a drop-top Porsche
Satisfaction, satisfaction, satisfaction.
satisfaction
we about to blow you a shotgun right through your speakers.
We breathing life back into
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