Lyrics:
the clubs, cruise down the block
All the Japanese with their yen
The party boys call the Kremlin
And the Chinese know (oh whey oh)
They walk the line
supper, eat it down by the sea
Gave my baby twenty, forty good reasons
Couldn't find any better ones in the morning at three
Rain gonna come but
Hov?"
Nigga, my passion
I was in New York the first time I heard "Dear Summer" on Hot 97
Top of the W Hotel, 54th and Broadway
Lookin' out my window
to the forty ounce
Or the runts dat get stunted
By the blunts
This time I'm gonna take it down the line
To the ones that are ready
They be holdin' it steady
an Egyptian
All the kids in the marketplace say
Walk like an Egyptian
Slide your feet up the street
Bend your back
Shift your arm and then you pull it
to the border line.
While the city boys were hanging out
Trying to clean their shares in the laundromat,
It was getting to the point of no return.
your couch
And it's knowin' I'm not shacked by forgotten words and bons
And the ink stains that have dried upon some line
That keeps you in the back
is my paw-paw
He gets his orders from my maw-maw
She makes him walk the line
You can find me in my wigwam
I'll be beatin' on my tom-tom
Pull out
eyes fixed straight ahead
They ride the line of balance and hold on by just a thread
But it's too hot in these tunnels, you can get hit up by the heat
you hate me, you're leaving tonight[00:54.65]You said you loved me, but that was a lie[00:59.77]She ripped me into pieces[01:01.86]Walk away, Walk
Women peak at 40 and men at 19
I remember laughing my head off when I read that in a magazine
(I was twenty at the time)
Now I'm staring forty
and raised in Africa trying to make a scene
(trying to make a scene)
The best way(the best way) to Israel is by this music thing
And you might believe
'Cause I been spendin' all this time alone
I'm on the red line, sinkin' Aperol
Another vessel in a winter coat
(Ooh, ooh)
Lonely almost cut me so
your couch
And it's knowing I'm not shacked
By forgotten words and bonds
And the ink stains
That have dried upon some line
That keeps you in
You walk on higher ground
Like the holy ghost I haven't found
The mighty words you speak
They bounce off the strong but
Are heard by the weak
To take you to his mansion in the sky
She's forty one and her daddy still calls her baby
All the folks around Brownsville say she's crazy
'Cause she
a way to kick these blues
It's that cold in the night and I've got blood in my eyes
I say 54/40 or fight
I've go a queesy feelin' in my guts
Can't you see
here
I got a moonshine stash in a cypress stomp
And a catfish line going, bom bom
An old tractor tire where I sit by the fire
And drink to a sweet
still walk on by
At the end of it all (end of it all)
No one wants to drink alone
Baby that's how it goes
Don't walk away from me
Do ya hear that whistle down the line?
I figure that it's engine number forty nine
She's the only one that'll sound that way
On the Atchison,
I walked forty-seven miles of barbed wire, I got a cobra snake for a necktie
A brand new house on the road side, and it's a-made out of rattlesnake
eyes fixed straight ahead
They ride the line of balance and hold on by just a thread
But it's too hot in these tunnels, you can get hit up by the heat
walks is razor fine
Tempered strength is always tough
But he ain't gonna buckle
Under the weight of the badge
Not that long ago he woke up in
ah-ah, ah-ah, ah-ah
Ah-ah, ah-ah, ah-ah
I'm walkin' down the line that divides me somewhere in my mind
On the border line of the edge and where I walk
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