Lyrics:
need a doctor
Shelter, clean Dunlops on a walker
She sells sea shells, he draws revenge
Plots on a chalkboard
Watch what you walk toward
Live free, die
Going crazy in the club
Hard at home
You call it locomotion but I call it moving bones
They talkin' bout the finer things
But we ain't listening
No information, say yes or no
One point five million
Alright, you get what you want, money's no object
They're all clean, no serial numbers,
No information, say yes or no
One point five million
Alright, you get what you want, money's no object
They're all clean, no serial numbers,
From the top top aye
From the top top aye
Look
Aye
Giving up my vice
I'm clean in the spot bro dropped the dirty in the sprite yea
Creeping through
"Of all the things my momma used to cook;
I liked.." "Chicken!"
[Richard Pryor]
You know that chicken I put in the refrigerator last night?
Well I
of a master
You never thought you'd be bodied by a bastard
A bachelor who backspin on breakbeats
Break necks of broke souls who hate me
Hate he? you can't
you rock will
Not make the swelling go down
Try settlin' down, we strapped
Mad chrome to grip
Last cat that had a bone to
Pick is a skeleton now
This
snow bunnies they be posted by the beach
I'm a self made n**** I'm a dog off the leash
Need a bad yellow bone that be bad like Alicia Keys
You would
beer
And they all think they are clean outta-site
And they're ready to party cause
The sign outside says it's wet T-Shirt Nite
And they all crave some
Black magic, night walker (yeah)
She haunts me like no other (feel like)
Nobody told me (I don't know) love is pain, oh (I know we just met)
Black
the cliques
An old shirt in the laundry
Basket clean your old work
Baby with the cigar
Oral cancer while you stick a dick in the
Balls kiss some when you white
Rich as bone marrow, margins narrow
Draped in Renaissance apparel
Last laughs stashed by the barrel
Last gasp of a Pharaoh
Blot the sun with arrows
Read
we're getting turnt
Finna go berserk (Crazy Crazy)
Better tread lightly, might end up on the shirt
No matter what it is, me and youngins pop out, Nick
won't know me by my skull or my rib
Locked in, clocked out
Yeah it is what it is
When it all boils down there's nothing but bones left
When it all
Right Hand Man
Let me use your toothbrush
Have you got a clean shirt?
My panties in a wad
At the bottom of my purse
I walk into the street
The air's so
"Take me to heaven" and bought as much as he could
He said, "This my last time; I'mma be clean, I'll be good"
Both came to pass; he went to heaven for
kicks
Crack ribs, punch your lungs, hard weaving
He's gasping and wheezing for air, his breath he can't catch
He clinches the shirt on his chest
In
clinches the shirt on his chest
In a dying effort to reveal his last will before he was killed
First things first, I chop your head to your fingertips
Bone in tha fuckin' war (no, no)
You hataz make feel like, you want to feel my motherfuckin' forty-four
But I gotta stay clean, it's cool, then unless
to survive?
Got yourself caught by the beast of Gevaudan
By the shapeshifter
No one to be runnin' from the skin-walker
From the slaughter
No one to be runnin'
to survive?
Got yourself caught by the beast of Gevaudan
By the shapeshifter
No one to be runnin' from the skin-walker
From the slaughter
No one to be runnin'
to survive?
Got yourself caught by the beast of Gevaudan
By the shapeshifter
No one to be runnin' from the skin-walker
From the slaughter
No one to be runnin'
to survive?
Got yourself caught
By the beast of Gevaudan
By the shapeshifter
No one to be runnin'
From the skin-walker
From the slaughter
No one to be
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