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Yee yee! We've found 16 lyrics and 200 artists matching another park another sunday dvd by the doobie brothers.
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gets the grits? (Say what?) Bust it I can tell another bout real grits getters Gettin grits y'all (Say what?) Bust it, let a Brother tell another
Sunday AFTERNOON (Written by Bobby Brown, Derek "DOA" Allen, and Kenny Finnel) Yeah, on the re-make ????? Sunday afternoon, yo DOA, bring it to me,
the Streets I lost my dad to As a kid, Meek became acquainted with Another of his dad's brothers A pioneering local DJ known as Grandmaster Nell if you were
can't let you down HOOK I know it kills you to see your brother's grave But the same things that break a man can make another change I'll stop thinking
the movies Happiness I love it man I need to make another plan Hang out with my brothers and puff up on a doobie Clown up on them suckas when they hating
away On my knees at night, I pray That we will live another day You always got something to say I'm at the park, playin' ball with the children
Can't explain the way I felt Too many years I seen my brothers die And I can't say that shit was really that fly But I used to gangbang when I was younger
Walker, Doobie Lee Harvey Oswald shot by Jack Ruby But who really shot JFK? Man still trying to explore space While climate change continues apace Too many
dissin' me Mom's grabbed me And then she gets to kissin' me She thanks the police for my good health I don't know why I coulda done that by my muthafuckin'
to just stroll the park with this Chaka Baby girl was just diggin' all in my pockets (all in my pockets) I was going hard (by the magic hour) We were
police, we Park Hillians with gold geese And everyday's a Sunday Easter Cousins in Gaza, the new improved Shottas Stretched out, mink on the floor, you
one by one Troubles fade into the distance The Doobie Brothers on the radio Maura reads the weather for ya Says, "New York City got another three
Smooth pimp brother Who the bitches check for off top everyday I’m still spitting that dope Hit you like weed with Coke and cigarette smoke Bring your
a bit of a suffering So faith I found comfort in Served in Church on a Sunday By Monday, I'm harbouring sins Sunday come again, repent and repeat
roll Rollin down the streets you might get jacked By another brother ... why is that? Critics always puttin' the blame on the gangs of society It
black park it, guns We spark it Hit you in the back of your dome, from far Kid dice kickers, gun clickers, run up In the bank for ones, quick The drug
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