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Silenced by death in the grave 

WB Yeats couldn't save 

Why did you stand here 

Were you sickened in time 

But I know by now 

Why did
FARTHER ALONG
(W.B. Stevens - J.R. Baxter)
« © '38 Stamps-Baxter Music »

Tempted and tried we're oft made to wonder why it should be thus all
( Words by W.B. Yeats, Music by Brian Miller )

I went out to the hazelwood
Because a fire was in my head
I Cut and peeled a hazel wand
And hooked
GETHSEMANE
WRITERS B.L. SMITH, W.B. WALDROP

Toll no bell for me Father
But let this cup of suffering pass from me
Send me no shepherd to heal my
(W.B. Yeats/J. Hamel)
I will arise and go now,
And go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there,
Of clay and wattles made.
Nine bean rows will I
vice grip ice and fire
she's a hot little treasure and the wave goes higher


birth-day
birth-day


Copyright © 1996 WB Music
Gotcha kids waitin'
WB we be
Hatin' the fact
Every five seconds
Canned laughter
Rolls off the faces of blacks
You p 'n' you pick a nigger
To make
(WB Yeats)
Come away, human child 
 to the water
Come away, human child 
 to the water and the wild
With a fairy, hand in hand
 for the world's
they saw?
Goldie and Ghost, black African Rose
Star-studded low lenses, plus the mural was dope
Airbrush W-B's, STOP! (Shake your body, body)
And cop
they saw?
Goldie and Ghost, black African Rose
Star-studded low lenses, plus the mural was dope
Airbrush W-B's, STOP! (Shake your body, body)
And cop
get
Show me a rerun on the W
Show me a rerun on the WB

So what's it like to be in it
And move away to the Midwest
I gotta message for your auntie
I
mess with the beat there, Richie
(WB- WBK)
If you're not gonna
If you're not gonna be in my deli workin
You're not gonna mess with the beat with that
ya melon lite up, you niggaz is butt
You want me, i'm reppin wb, what?
Where you find me at spillin congac from a cup
With my heat next to my nuts
Month
What!

(Chorus)
Yo'
Who the only star on WB?
That would be me!
Who the mami's think is so sexy?
That would be me!
Who the illest nigga outta Jersey?
Merci by W.B. Keats - 1819)

I met a lady in the meads,
Full beautiful--a faery's child,
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were
people called for this track, it ain't no trouble to me
I dreamt that you and me got married on the WB
You on channel 11; I carry the M-11
RJ
ran, never will
The Remedy gets you open like them pigs in the Pill'

(Yes we can can, yes we can can) - 4X
[Lounge Mode]
The word from the WB, they
the freezer
and show you heaters that'll defrost your ice grill
I'm +Ill+, +Al Skratch+, like Mills and his WB
is +Real+ in my +World+ and I'm not talkin no,
the comin of W.B. Farrhad
The God in person, yeah cursin
America, word is bond
And left us Elijah and Farrakhan
Talk a XYZ, ain't nothin' like WB
O.T.F., a bag of Uno Sixty
I love how the weed get me
See me whole style tricky
Gats under the table, the tables
the enemy of your mental state
With the same rhyme I used to burn your idol in a battle
To subdue you into saying, "Look, I don't want to battle,"
MIB, WB
hear it, one for the coons on UPN 9 and WB
Who 'Yes Massa' on TV, what ever happened to Wheezy? The Red Fox's?
Never got Emmy's but were real to me
on the WB

You on channel 11, I carry the m-11
RJ the Reverened, it's a match made in heaven
Whatever have you I let you know, I'm from soundview
Down 'til I
found 'em I walk in and cock my pound and I stop
I'm shocked astounded at what I see
W.B., Mr. American me, chilling with the terrorist three
discussing

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