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Search results for 'my little girl from flicka by tim mcgraw'
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#2: It could be carried by an African swallow! GUARD #1: Oh, yeah, an African swallow maybe, but not a European swallow, that's my point. GUARD #2:
Or else we'll all wind up in a big ol' spat And I said hush your mouth nobody's gonna mind If I pack my lip and ignore the sign 'Cause a little dip
The Unit was coached by Phil Jackson The N was raw, it's Tim McGraw Them Henny caps was spinnin' off You had beef and niggas saw you? They smacked you
gone And you're daddy's little girl Tim McGraw: There's two things I know for sure She was sent here from heaven And she's daddy's little girl As I drop
a problem y'all It's like hip-hop, meets effin Tim McGraw We two fools and don't take no mess Bitch lumber logs just to work the chest He's country
Tell Me girl do you remember The first song that made you smile The mix tape spinnin' in your daddy's Ford On a small town Saturday night Tim McGraw
can throw on ice Find us somewhere that we can drink it while the moon's up high With your girl and your boys by the fire making noise In a field
like that you little clown ass hoe If my flow was a gun, bitch you would run When you hear my come, from the head Every lyric is a bullet Fuckin' ya up
can throw on ice Find us somewhere that we can drink it while the moon's up high With your girl and your boys by a fire making noise In a field
Wanna be gang chick When Tim Mcgraw comes on You know she knows all the words She a pretty face little waist Sure to be dangerous I could never hurt her
Too high to care Got no one anywhere Tim McGraw on the air So far from sober Got a little left over She said, "Take it for me My parents are awake
guitar Well if Bobby Ray too country, I'm the black Tim McGraw I got some shit up on my chest, and I can't wait to get it off If it’s trouble that they
all when I make the money from the song I wrote for Tim McGraw Before you it was cluttered here Didn't even know the neighbors dear My anxiety it
all around By the time I'm done you'll be $2.99 a pound [Verse Two:] Tim Dog Coming from the butcher shop Fuck with KRS and the Dog and get
like that you little clown ass hoe If my flow was a gun, bitch you would run When you hear my come, from the head Every lyric is a bullet Fuckin' ya up
night) Then I sped by him (skrrttt!) and he met my tim’s When I checked him then (BITCH!) his respect was thin Like a necklace pin, round his neck
see me jettin' right by with the fly Latin girl in my ride You gettin' jealous? You shouldn't be jealous Let me ask the fellas, hey, fellas Why is he
cracker a day (what? Oh shit) Girl, well, I heard the bitch was married to Tim And started fucking with Trina Well, I heard the bitch got hit by three
cracker a day (what? Oh shit) Girl, well, I heard the bitch was married to Tim And started fucking with Trina Well, I heard the bitch got hit by three
Another watch, another chain, the last thing a nigga need Swear to God, couple right by the night stand Clip my half a hundred, fill a case another
Seven thousand miles from an Olive Garden And you'd probably do the same thing Up in my position But I digress It's a pointless conversation So we make it
they'll all catch a bang-bang I come from the Bronx and not the Boogie Down Niggaz don't ever come and front in my part of town See everybody
My Life is just like a car crash So slow down girls when you go passing me by My world can never stop spinning I got a girl in every city and they
The main street of this little town Might as well be my runway to touch down ‘Cause if I ever need a piece of home I know just right where I’ll go By plane
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