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An Artist
in her hair Oh, don't give us none of your aggravation We had it with your discipline Oh, Saturday night's alright for fighting Get a little
and his wife And he was beautiful A proper artist with a knife But they transported him for life And he was beautiful Barker, his name was Benjamin
in her hair Oh, don't give us none of your aggravation We had it with your discipline Oh, Saturday night's alright for fighting Get a little
Transported? What was his crime? Foolishness He had this wife, you see Pretty little thing Silly little nit Had her chance for the moon on a string Poor
easily Have you ever been to a birthday party for children And one of the children won't stop screaming 'Cause he's just a little attention attractor
Let me guess, another album about, "Poor me I'm so famous, it has ruined my rich little life And I'm such a tortured artist, let me make music about
in her hair Don't give us none of your aggravation We had it with your discipline Oh, Saturday night's alright for fighting Get a little action
in her hair Oh, don't give us none of your aggravation We had it with your discipline Oh, Saturday night's alright for fighting Get a little
There are no lyrics to this track. It is intentionally blank, with each of the 71 seconds representing one of the years that the artist's father,
Your next favourite artist (Artist , Artist , Artist) You're my favourite artist (Artist)
Stella she gave me a state of grace I'm armour plated 4 inches thick Now all I got was a little taste I'm gibbering like a lunatic Stella
America's most complete artist" "What's your name boy?" "I.. am.." "America's most complete artist" "You better get ready" "for America's most complete
Truthfully all of 'em spoiled, usually you're never charged But somethin' came over you once I took you to them fuckin' BET Awards You lookin' at artists
Tune me in to the wild side of life I'm an innocent young child sharp as a knife Take me to the garretts where the artists have died Show me
Tune me in to the wild side of life I'm an innocent young child sharp as a knife Take me to the garretts where the artists have died Show me
On a lone and windy hilltop beneath a roof of tin In a little wallpapered bedroom I done my growin' 'Twas there I dreamt my dreams, I hung my jeans
Oh yes he was, sing with me Poor Jesse had a wife To mourn for his life And three children They were oh so brave But that dirty little coward He
We're sorry but the artist has decided not to disclose the lyrics for this song.
We're sorry but the artist has decided not to disclose the lyrics for this song.
We're sorry but the artist has decided not to disclose the lyrics for this song.
We're sorry but the artist has decided not to disclose the lyrics for this song.
We're sorry but the artist has decided not to disclose the lyrics for this song.
We're sorry but the artist has decided not to disclose the lyrics for this song.
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