Lyrics:
sweat it?
I'm all into my music cause it's how I make papes
Tryin' to make hits, like Kid Capri makes tapes
Me sweat another? I do my own thing
outta court like
What the fuck they thought?
It made me sob up
My mans I just can't picture bein' locked up
They used to bein' mad fly
850i style Cherokee
to the underground.
Nigga, my voice is more irritating than chlorine in your eye.
Nigga, I'm from the I, M G, I'm S-K-I.
A multi-talented minster music.
Weed? I
It's the place to do your own thing, hey, hey
People dress the best there, the music is the best there.
They're the very best sounds, so high class, if
content with his nine-to-five and it seems
His homie is getting distant on him
The music got him away from the routine so Corey said he got different
the hot
I'm a flow from the soul when you can't hold me back
Ke-ke-keep on keep on rolling the track
I'm a simply simply always attach
Jeepney Music by
of my dreams
So I can make peace with myself
Music by Dave Talbo
Lyrics by Dave Talbo
years cold turkey, now I'm in my thirties
Getting clubbed by the culture do you really wanna hurt me
Karma chameleon they come and go take control yo
Face
When homeboys put vogues on any car
With 6 by 9's smoking burner
Everybody got addicted to my dope fiend beat
Whole town fucked around and started
the seeds sprout from the ground. I'm going to chant my dizzy visions until everyone can hear that dizzy sound. I'm going to wear my dizzy visions so you can
look funny, but, yo, I'm makin' money, see
So, yo, world I hope you're ready for me
Now gather 'round, I'm the new fool in town
And my sound's laid
and graphic grammar
My verbal murder strech from Alaska to Alabama
Get touched by my Arm and Hammer
All across the planet niggas crumble like granite
thing everything pur
As I look around they don't do it like my clique (Maybach Music)
And all this bad bitches man they want the
they want the, they
the mood is all from a dream
So if your (Feeling) down
How bout you turn up the sound
And start vibing right now
Cause you’re my favorite around and you make
I left the South
And learned how different people's perceptions
Of the Southern Thing was from what I'd seen in
My life Which leads us to George
Jordan, Scottie Pippen at my wedding
They say I'm crazy but that's the best thing going for me
You can't Lynch Marshawn, and Tom Brady throwin' to me
I
quarter through life
Some Godly-like thing created
Got rhymes 365 days annual plus some
Load up the mic and bust one
Cuss while I puffs from
My skull cause
We came here from far
Really far away
And now we are here
And we came to stay
It is the western rock
Coming anyway
Leaded by my hand
Every single
Creeper growing skywards from the ground
Whisper to me it's my favorite sound
Sunlight and warm life
Music a bird could sing
Although they're all
steal the ball. Words and music, Copyright 2016 by David Gregorio. Guitar, trumpet and vocal: Dave Gregorio. Drums, bass, percussion and keyboards: Greg
the hood, just shooting the breeze
My partners on the cut smoking swisher sweets
Tripping on the hoochies rolling by in they rides
Guzzling up a forty
understand a fuckin word he says
Grandpa Jougenson?
Oh I know Grandpa Jourgenson
Yeah, ya'll might know him by other things
Punk ass muthafucka
Hypo Luxa,
Bringing pleasure and pain
As brains start to gain from musical measures
Forming mystical questions never typical inventions
Developed by my Gifted
Right about now, you're about to be possessed
By the sounds of Cool N Dre and Freeway
Hit it
Young Philly from the block, y'all, rockstar
This
.jpg/225px-Dave_Brubeck_(1964).jpg "Dave Brubeck")
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