Lyrics:
can't believe you're gone, an
Time ain't the same when you're thirty three
Man I'd trade it all to have you here with me
Your momma cries almost everyday
sorrow's marching all the way with me,
Telling me I'm old now since I lost my man
Since I lost my man.
Old man sorrow's sitting by the fireside,
Lying
exists to entertain this serpent race
No choice but to continue
Marching into the ring
Coliseum of suffering
Crowds of snakes
Set the stakes
Cheer with
up 85 on the dash
Wondering is this the dream are we really free at last
Then you see the news another death by the cops hand
Black man you ain’t free
''73 This man got shot, African traitors with rifles
Blocked the car that he and his wife were driving
See this man was a strong lion, down for
By six he's out of bed, she makes his coffee sweet
He grabs his boots and his coat
Leaves a note that says, 'I love you'
And runs to catch a bus
Gritt madden he the coach nigga
My jugg calling again step hard like marching band
Yeah I'm the motion man you can't approach the kid
Word around
Gregor's bound up in a rug
Besmirched by cyanide and blood
And Willy's etched upon a plaque
Some errant lead lodged his back
Martha's burned up in
Left right lefty low low left right
The worlds upside down
But that's alright man cause
Look at me now
I am so pretty!
Dancing here up on this stage with
everything, so let it ring
They will never get us
Even in the summertime, we never sweat it
No, no
[Verse 2: Notion]
Hell yeah, believe I'm marching with my
like a teen
Wish I could kill you that way you'd only
Exist in my memory
The idea of you could never be spoiled by
Your immaturity
Wish I could feel you
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight
Days go marching by
There and back I never wait for a confident reply
Yeah, truth is stark
not seem to shed a tear
Still looks a royal man
Greek Jason
With polished words he tricked Hipsypyle
And left her and their child
Loathly place
ain't takin no wickets
Ain't no six six six it's sevens
We purchased by the blood
Cause he punched my ticket
Pull up pull up let's go
Pull up pull up
I’m illi man
Ain feelin man
I billing man
They all dealing mine
Since a little young
Been killing man
Tall nigga
6 feeting man
Bitch nigga
I be
Destruction at their feet
Onward Christian soldiers,
Marching to the beat
Marching to the beat
Beat
Storm the gates of heaven
The church of Man is lost
Storm
the wrong genes
I reached the wrong ends by the wrong means
It was the wrong plan
In the wrong hands
With the wrong theory for the wrong man
The wrong
York City
Six foot drifts on Myrtle's lawn
As they push the recline buttons down
With dreamland coming on
Dreamland, dreamland
Dreamland, dreamland
York City
Six foot drifts on Myrtle's lawn
As they push the recline buttons down
With dreamland coming on
Dreamland, dreamland
Dreamland, dreamland
I moved to L.c. with a couple hundred dollars and a box of clothes
I drove my car and cSRX through the rocky roads
Things was feeling real maybe cus
crosses and you'll never see a-one
But sometimes between the setting and the rising of the sun
You can hear a ghostly bugle
As the men go marching by
back with after 6 months
This filth? What the peanut butter
And jelly bullshit going on
Huh brazzi? Ya niggas
Ain’t even worth my fucking rhymes, man
(like that)
Ninety-six gon' be that year
I bet you never heard of a playa with no game
Told the truth to get what I want, but shot it with no shame
(like that)
Ninety-six gon' be that year
I bet you never heard of a playa with no game
Told the truth to get what I want, but shot it with no shame
Discuss these marching with 6 by portugal the man Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In