Search results for 'all in his hands by florida mass choir' Page #27

in na whip
Knock at the door
He spooked when he saw my face
Put a couple in his shots in chest
Nevea bite the hand that feed u
I'm conflicted with

they're vaginas 
Gettin' blasted by our finest
Weapons of mass destruction 
My lyrics mixed with his production 

KAMEHAMEHA 
Trevillain's comin' for you

I been writing gettin practice with K 
That's My right hand from back in the day 
At 15 shit is real thinking 
Rap going to get me a range a pad

middle finger
At least I got my baby
In other news: there's been a mass disappearance of kindergarteners around the globe
The terminator came and dropped

and are drained
Been working by yourself and got a son but you've been missing all his games

Its for dads who are refrained
For dads who make their

Innocents and civilians
Hide my hands thrown up to the heavens
Doused in mud that once fueled these streets
Look around and see the flags of our fathers
What

a prize,
Wins a minute to add to his life.
But the sickness is drowned by cries for more,
Pray to God, make it quick, watch him fall.

This is the way, step

a masterpiece, just tryna give the mass a piece
Of how I tried to master peace
All the dreams and the goals that I have to reach
All the gems for my people that

like I'd rather read Grinch 
Let me read snitch
Cause society's being held together by one stitch
I don't wanna get fucking rich

I'm left in a ditch I

one hand and a dick in the other
Make no mistake it belongs to your brother
He's screaming in pain hollering and crying
And I'm laughing while he's

To whom much is given ,much is required
Melodies from heaven songs sung by the choir,
Psalms in the Palm of my hands, Grains in the sand,
Change with

called my name
And took me by the hand

They sang my place was ready
In heaven far above
And that I'd have to leave behind
All those I dearly love
But as I

hand
Might give you advice
Like a lingering thought
Or light in the sky
And a circular sign
Might tell you a truth
About things that you want

forgetting the dates in his diary
R.I.P Dr. Kelly and fuck the hutton inquiry
Water boards at bay
Lock-down in Guantanamo prison
Cover a face and paint new

wish we had done
There'll be a choir of angels here to sing our regrets
How lovely would it be if there mouths were close kept
By trading our heartaches

Bird's the word, chase the chicken words stir in the streets
J Booga coming out da mud, his grind dirty as teeth 
From niggas who leech, born in defeat

time for hello
Don’t come too close
If you see me in the store
Don’t touch me n****
You see the mask and the motherfucking gloves on my hands
Ain’t no

was, baroque stroke with the brush
It's all dangerous
The brooding artist makes the lonely look lush
Spiraling in limbo
Want a basin by the river
Blood

(prop it up)
(ok)

To the driver of the truck
Who sent the crowd 6 feet down 
In an x-mass town
Without a homemade bomb's sound
For some higher

Words, 2006

Sho Baraka

The Narrative

2016

a needy man, wanting more that what you put in his hands
All I wanted was a perfect family core
Now I'm envying the family next door
Trying not to trust

So I take hold of it until my very last breath
Motivational factor, fraction of a moment in time
Captured by the mind transmitted in rhyme
Trying

mention
His cousin was coming and she was sent from heaven
In the eyes of Bobby and they connected quick
Moving fast trips from Mass to Connecticut
Young

Feelin like I can't breathe nowadays Hashtags hands up please don't spray my bad
Too late to hammer of Thor Made a young nigga spill his skittles in front

Catholic Boy

Jim Carroll

Catholic Boy

1980

of all my enemies
Just like Christ in the Garden of Gethsemane

Repeat Refrain

I watched the sweetest psalm stolen by the choir
I dreamed