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veins You created your sin Blackened by greed Of your sick twisted need Can never take back All you've discarded of me You took all the smiles
send a bill That she piles on the floor She calls it the Monument of Humiliation Of All the Sick and Poor [Middle] She wonders what good is your
were built into airplanes! Such schmucks those poor nicotine addicts They'd freak out if one hour or minute Their mouths should feel nervous and naked
be alone Baby come back This is your home I gotta get you back By any means Back By any means Back By any means Back By any means Woman I
One harmless mistake and me fighting days are done But I swear to those poor sods, when I go abroad I'll make it back with far fewer bullet holes It's
Machine against man and the Planet's in ruins But by then we will have mastered the craft Of creating clone soldiers to we don't have (to) come out
Poor Ace, he's got the beagle blues What's a poor dog to do All I ever wanted was to play with you And now my ball ball days through If someone took
The incantation they gave voice to in the midst of that sanguineous turmoil which engulfed them was not so much heard by those within earshot as perceived, sensed
I'm so sick and tired of those fuckers talking behind my back Like a tick they suck my blood, rip off their head and attack! It's a god damn calamity
the maddeened go to extreme lengths Who simply couldn't take it Who knew they wouldn't make it Being ground down fine, by those who haven't got the time For they
the floors, by the elevator doors That's the last thing that I saw Damn, we plan to make grands of our home (Number two) Jagged edge, rockin' God, hard
McCormack and Richard Tauber are singing by the bed There's a glass of punch below your feet and an angel at your head There's devils on each side
I conflict with those who are tricked by the gimmick market and can't think with logic. Logics are in the distance so I'm makin a pop hit hip hop is
violence if you look like them Eyes wide shut with the prayer hands President's brain getting poisoned by a spray tan Soon the poor will have nothin left
wrong To call out an enemy if they cross lines Victimized by assault, crimes And those put in power seem to walk blind But when it's our kind, it's all
Left alone with my thoughts And I hear the bastard screaming It's all your fault It's all your fault It's all your fault But all those fucking thoughts
for you to Just leave them alone? The scenes are unreal Poor crushed by company zeal To keep their high brow holders happy Those in power Double down
for you to Just leave them alone? The scenes are unreal Poor crushed by company zeal To keep their high brow holders happy Those in power Double down
will never cease Another year another piss poor salary granted to us by the almighty dynasty Can we please see up close and personal as you lie to your
Yanning logically aye is prejudiced Stereotyped The poor masses are to blind to realize Every 365 still trying to survive Waking up steady days
twist on it) (Master P and Snoop, ha ha, tah dow, poppin' collars) [Chorus: Master P & Snoop] Pop those collars Pop those collars Pop those collars
McCormack and Richard Tauber are singing by the bed There's a glass of punch below your feet and an angel at your head There's devils on each side
McCormack and Richard Tauber are singing by the bed There's a glass of punch below your feet and an angel at your head There's devils on each side
McCormack and Richard Tauber are singing by the bed There's a glass of punch below your feet and an angel at your head There's devils on each side
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