Lyrics:
round the table
We're all 18 and able
Cause you got a 20
And I got a house key
And some warm beer
I've got a simple explanation
It's all the fault,
I should rock John Undercover for the whole summer
Pole with the scratched numbers (boom, boom, boom, boom, boom)
We wore Fear of Gods to the last
and the wordplay
The whole world love to hear us say baby, ya heard me
What kind of city I can play at Le Bon Temps
End up at The John til the early morn'
What
Offense with them straps, you gon' need D
Want beef with the gang? You gon' need cheese
John Cena with them tints, you can't see me
Fuck the law, catch
keep it real or get John Doe'd
My hair stay nappy, stay bush, stay twist
My attitude is shitty, my hands stay fist
My house stay searched, my cars stay
a dream do you know what I mean
Goateed indeed, smart like John Steed
I'll steal your girlie and I'll steal your weed
I got so much flavor, I always
Me and John rode out from ocean heading east
I had to see with my own eyes the factories
I'm buggin out
We've never strayed this far
Right out
you that lost the will to live
[Verse 1]
Pissed on the motherfucking White House lawn
I threw a rock, then I ran
'Cause I couldn't stand anymore
Well it sure didn't take too long
I woke up this morning she was gone
And the note that she wrote
Didn't say Dear John, just goodbye sucker I'm
is what I am
If you don't like what I am I don't give a damn
Black pecker's my title, john king is my idol
I'm havin thoughts that's suicidal, young
cyphers dans l’autobus
Et on s’impose dans l’open house
« Hey vous êtes qui?!? »
Bof, les potes d’Untel
Ya des Mcs dans la place
Son c’est un cas de battle
bro
With White John gettin' faded
Right on Melrose
I'm the shit and you not, how that feel
Bro?
I done came a long way but
You know I ain't finished
Benny's
White Henny fountains, counting, thumbs numb
Pretty pennies
Log cabin getaways on mountains to chill
Cop my pop a house on the hill
The spouse in
to see me
Like John Cena
High jab ya, huh, then wrap you like a turban
Pack a Stan in a can and ship him to Eminem
And say "Dax needs a feature" and
Pray
a million pounds
Would you suck a fart out
Of John Prescott’s arse?
K: Yes I would, for a million pounds
K: I’d cut my cock off with a rusty saw
LK: Have
When you walk in our house it's on display
That shiny white polyester rhinestone cape
Right there next to that cuckoo clock
The one that every hour
thousand, Plain Jane
Nah them not normal problems (nah)
Make the money, stay the same
(money) , house in another county (Quan)
Bitch in a different league
The thirteenth son of Erin, will put you on yer arse
The devil don’t fuck with the Irish no more, since they tore his house apart
Good morning Mister Casey, who
my mouth
I got cigarette holes on my couch, on my clothes
Cigarette burns in my house on the floor
Doing a head nod pushing my whip through the streets
dead
House is dead ska is dead
Jazz is dead glam is dead
Tin pan alley is dead
That motown sound is dead
Reggae music is dead
And rock and roll
wrist so much I spent a house deposit on it.
Vomit and then I drink more wine,
Then I broke a bowl and hope the Hospital gives me morphine.
How do
Bathhouse
John Caldwin and Crane Dollar
Hold houses on the levy
Taking a cut, eight cents of every dollar
With a kickback to the Mayor
And the derelict
Tash
I came to kick your ass, quick fast, not to house you
I want your homies saying "Tash smacked the shit out you"
Smoke something, drink
the place and we raising the roof,
Like Al Qaeda had placed a case in the booth,
A taste of the truth and some flawless shit,
Like John Howard knows the taste
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