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that we shared the Same musical tastes so We asked them to join our band It was some of the greatest Times of our lives playing music in Taylor’s
]- The way he sticks it in, and takes his time [Fatal]- Nasty new, PYT, dem come for free Verse two You know I love it, when you got the thong in when I
in the arms of any other person though I will try. Again I'll deny the blanketing sky, the thing I just realized for probably the millionth time, that
rough boy, wants to be a singer in a band. Yeah, help him on the stage now, put that microphone in his hand. Think hard, think right nothing in his mind
yeah (yeah) Singer* ohhh (one more time) Singer* ohhh (uh huh) Singer* ohhh (where we at?) Singer* ohhh (AZ) It's been official best wishes I send
us, Maranatha They ask me how I'm doin' I Say "better than I deserve" 'Cus I got the medicine, I was in sin sick Now I'm walking upright, like... swerve
Nighttime drive-by, singers lullabies Bigs askin' about songs they can't identify Down in Alabama, baggin' grams of yams Got dozens of killers under my
it, want the smell to linger Your man 'bout to find out how I'm secretly a singer [VERSE1] He pulled up in the ghost White like Casper, I don't wanna
to get me a hole-in-one to remind me of life when I go off Homocidal thoughts, bodies outlined in chalk by the time it's dark Dahmer signing his name
the shepherd Era também cantor Was also a singer Criava versos e poemas de amor Creating verses and love poems Com sua harpa a tocar By playing his harp Assim
us, Maranatha They ask me how I'm doin' I Say "better than I deserve" 'Cus I got the medicine, I was in sin sick Now I'm walking upright, like... swerve
to Christina 'Cause if I ever stuck it to any singer in showbiz It'd be Jennifer Lopez, and Puffy, you know this I'm sorry Puff, but I don't give a fuck if
Jazz singers and some jazz records pops into Blasting it every chance given his living Jazzhole I was back in it 07' Terna working shifts blast records
There's a deeper wisdom in the singer's eyes, a life shaped by the road His voice is raspy, he never got fame, and his face looks a little worn It's more
Oh ah He found his purpose in art, but he didn't know where to start Do you want to be an actor, he wanted to be a singer He wanted to be a dancer
letter that she wrote He can calm a newborn baby Saved his own life in a flood Been tied up by Chinese pirates Spent the night in his own blood
to niggas, perfect your own speech Shit is copper, it ain't worth the mic stands Used by backup singers in Atlantic City bands Niggas look on, and get
'em up I don't be givin' a motherfuck, red dead bodies in this truck, time to get another truck This is my last time, sicker than the ass virus It's
of his God. Lately though, he had been visited by many temptations in his dreams. Promises of pleasure, riches and power raced through his sleeping mind.
as maturity is not produced in one day Neither does Christ's Good News make all things new in one age God still saves, one by one Day by day, played out on our
punch counter, in bunches out of anger I once encountered a stranger in a dumb gown Black hoodie with a scythe, I laughed in his face, spit Bi- gave me
as I punch counter, in bunches out of anger I once encountered a stranger in a dumb gown Black hoodie with a scythe, shit, I laughed in his face, spit
The kid heard the word up in Brooklyn. It was his second year of medical school. He went and stashed some jeans into his guitar case, His father
player is Their guitars won't stay in tune The singer uses Autotune They don't even know how to play their song And i still don't know who the bass player
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