Lyrics:
And lay under your palm trees
I looked in the eyes of the Indian
Who lay on the Federal Building steps
And through the range finder over the hill
I
Now the same fucking bitches wanna lay down where I came
Wanna talk about my range
Like this range finder
Gonna find a fucking way
To a Range Rover
on foreign islands
I want that Range Rover
Navigating path finder
She came from poverty
And me too so it’s perfect timing
Do you want some yellow diamonds
Keep
Shirley's Place
By: Head Ferns
Momma don't like
Neither do I
Hit road hike
Don't expect pie
Their culture strange
Same but not
Dolly down range
soul
He said he was family till he got too old
And he called them miners mother load finders
Digging so deep in search of more gold
Oh where are
spiser vi dinner
Naanbrød med baba ganoush som en inder
Asted af sti'n, og lad os se hvad vi finder
Find mig der hvor det skinner
Hvor selv skyggen er så
his soul
He said he was family till he got too old
And he called them miners, mother lode finders
Digging so deep in search of more gold
Oh, where are
his soul
He said he was family till he got too old
And he called them miners, mother lode finders
Digging so deep in search of more gold
Oh, where
soul
He said he was family 'til he got too old
And he called them miners, motherlode finders
Digging so deep in search of more gold
Oh, where are
faith
Range Rove leather roof, love war fuck a truce
Still move a bird like I'm in bed with Mother Goose
Them hoes comin' in a baker's dozen
Claiming
pain in the end
Pain (x4)
Organized crimer,big trouble finder
In and out of institutions ever since I was a minor
But now I'm on the bricks,deep in
dripped up in designer
Came a long way from hitting licks up in a Honda
Now your bitch on my dick yea that’s where you’ll finder
Swimming with the sharks
ride
G5 when we fly
Singing deals in the sky
You know numbers don't lie
From the muscle I grind
From the bottom I climb
Middle finder to swine
You
the verbal you're shot, from the deep range or down low to the mwah
Wipe the face off got her frozen on ice, talking crazy things like never leaving her life
their story ain't lining up as they make it
But I'm chilling in the backyard waiting to hear that thang click
They took aim close range from inside of my
the top down and leaving it off
Bitch said that I was self centered
A pushed a button in the range and nows it's self centers
With a pistol in my jeans,
huh?
I don't need no features
Still bring out the creature
Let's play finders keepers
I only play for keeps huh
Product of the streets uhh
I got
ever them trends at
Off the wall, bank shot
Niggas lame could never hang out
Dressing fancy, bring the range out
Ima pimp I pull my Cain out
100
l'inspecteur
En séminaire, y a au moins deux, trois grinders
Ça fait deux cents morts par semaine, demande au finder
J'bois pas trop d'fé-ca, direct j'fume un
how to live my life
Game's finished, hella kids would want a do over
And I used to think that way too until I grew older
New Range Rover, gold
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