Lyrics:
on bitches made her my mistress
This ain't no message
Flow like a river
Hoppin on any genre
Buyin' those Dior Converse
My bitch got jealous
wanna feel precious
Look, I'm so raw, turn the oven on
Chef Papa John, I get the parmesan
She want a yellow nigga, corn on the cob
Indian giver, slob on my knob
John was my best friend
I thought of the times we shared
And a tear came to my eye
Cause it was pretty clear
That I kind of missed the guy
Was it
Give me my Ventolin inhaler and two Xenadrine
And I'll invite Sarah Palin out to dinner then
Nail her, baby, say hello to my little friend
Brit,
brewery, and turn the planet into alcoholics
If I had a magic wand
I'd make the world suck my dick without a condom on
While I'm on the john
If I had
already have a friend
Over and over she' reeling me in
She says nobody has to know
But I got to let her go
So I have to walk on bye
(She can't be my lover)
long stick
I'm the rap game John Wick
Real snakes nowadays don't hiss
They up in your face, they give you a kiss
Be calling you friend, be telling you
By the second verse, dear friends
My head will burst, my life will end
So I'd like to start this one off by saying
Live and love
I was young
close wit the rhymes that you wrote
Don't be mad cause you broke
let me clear my throat ah huh ah huh
John Forte grab the mic roots sway it this way
Me and my crew in a little tour show
Learned to flip the door with the money we've got.
The blocks stay hot getting knocked it's on
Till one by
know
I know
I know they'll be waiting for me
You chose to shatter my world forever by brutally terrorizing and executing
The two sweetest, innocent
no reason to deny it, I have been saved by Jesus Christ
Yes I have
Ahh Praise the Lord guitar
Play it Eddie
Tell 'em about it John
Well Even
Look
I'm so raw
Turn the oven on
Chef Papa John
I get the Parmesan
She want ah yellow nigga
Corn on the cob
Indian giver
Slob on my knob
love with the first boy
She kissed in a casket
God damn it (God damn it)
God damn I miss my dead friend
I miss my dead friend
We buried your body
Men
Old Friend
What have u been up to
Got a message in my dream
That life may not seemWell
So old friend dear friend
Play this song over again
When
I bought a bourgeois house in the Hollywood hills
With a truckload of hundred thousand dollar bills
Man came by to hook up my cable TV
We settled in
Words and music by John Kay and Michael Wilk
It used to be when things weren't right
I do my share and join the fight
And would surely stand
your beautiful hemorrhoids
That's right
You need to be friends with your hemorrhoids right
Yes
Yes
Let's all be friends with our hemorrhoids
With cream
gotta run
They right on my tail
Time for some fun
Ain't no time to exhale
They thought I was dead
Saved by a friend
Cause they missed they shot
Now
love with the first boy
She kissed in a casket
God damn it (God damn it)
God damn I miss my dead friend
I miss my dead friend
We buried your body
look me in the eye
A couple thousand miles away
You took me by surprise
You left a message on the telephone
From New York City, your new home
You
A couple of years back I come across a great and wasted friend of mine in the hallway of a recording studio. And while he was reciting some poetry
Call me Gunshot Mike or Mr Skeng
Check one-two-one man skitzed again
Dickhead you and a dickhead crew
Getting gassed up by your dickhead friends
I
don't act like that
I know you got my message, boy, call me back (call me back)
Hey now, don't act wrong (come on)
Be a real G and pick up the phone
-8643.jpg/225px-John_Scofield_(cropped)-8643.jpg "John Scofield")
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