Lyrics:
times do the seasons turn for babaloyn
burn this is my own concern to carry on
traditional listen yo
how many brothers tears have shed
by my people for
should be enough
I never leave the house without something to eat
Early riser by genetic, take the stairs 'cause I'm athletic
Always at the office
and tie,
He had just been wed today,
I could not help but laugh, what's got into him?
He looks about forty,
He's been such a nit, now he's in for it,
sky
Yeah brother that's why I ride
Way out yonder, that's where I'm longing to be
Maybe somewhere around interstate 40, lady luck waits for me
There is a big click clack machine
Whose engines don't pump gasoline
It's a poundin' crazy arm that works all day
It's run by all the people who
Have
he's here to do some business with the big iron on his hip,
big iron on his hip"
In the town there lived an outlaw by the name of Texas Red
Many men
she could hear the cars roll by,
Out on four forty one like
Waves crashing on the beach,
And for one des'rate moment there
He crept back in her
on surrounding roofs
Traffic blocked off by SWAT troops
Evacuate the people inside
Pretend we're CNN, say Leary's dead
I just want to speak my mind
More for you
(PSC):
2:40 in the afternoon...
In a blink you're here, the next second might decease
True destiny keeps my heart grounded, deceit encompasses
machines.
Until once again your free,
You're free.
It's gone, it's gone
Repeat Chorus.
Questions in her head,
As the forties pass her by
inside
Cracked open the 4-0, then I took a sip
Now which one of y'all bitches suckin' my dick
Then they knew the time, 'cause they down for the benefit
drinking up a lot of forties
Oldies make E's in the sky
Why I rose made dog we use to ride
Kitchens cool in the woods by the tracks
We use to gather up our
directly from the keyboard
change line forty in your program
Insert a sheet of paper and let the system run.
Face the fact you're left in the dark
With
There were forty little houses
In a place
They called High River
And everyone knew Tim
Since the day he was born
He was a little different
Some
they're still staring in my grill like dentures
I fuck with Brotha Lynch's and Andre Nickatina's
Tote forties, four-fours, tens, and even Nina's
I be
you surrounded
My deadest nigga Ha forty drinkin latino (se moreno!)
Who back down cops, escape like Larry Davis, couldn't live off minimum
Intro: Oklahoma city bombing cover up
Timothy McVeigh is innocent
By preponderance of evidence
Lets get it straight a cover up is no accident
on the +pallow+
[Buddy Slim]
So let me just collect the props by the bag
Front on my stats I'm gettin found like your hooker's snatch
[Breezly Brewin]
(Yo it's
Like 40 years old, still pickin' average poems
[Young Zee]
And now it's on, ya niggas want to get beat
Just bring that shit around 20th Street
No one's here to change your mind
She's a thousand miles away
Just relax, it's waitin' there
All around me 40 million questions
Here today and gone
the morning light
We down here smoking with this Tremé shit
You can tell by the tuba that we got a new hit
Now it's Mardi Gras morning and we down in Tremé
of cousins
Thriving by the dozens
Down't uncle bill's
Down among the hills
Table set and you can bet
Everyone will get lots of turkey
We got forty pounds
Then
Pull up at the liquor sto' 'cause we gotta get some mo'
40's and blunts, smoke 'til I'm high, drink 'til I'm drunk
'Bout to scoop 'em up 'cause he like
could hear the cars roll by
Out on four forty-one
Like waves crashin' on the beach
And for one desperate moment there
He crept back in her memory
God,
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