Lyrics:
inside the club Do you really wanna thug or do ya want love? She gets the paper when it's time to get it on She keeps these clowns thinking like Jack B.
mang... So I move keys you can call me the Piano Man Rain...sleet, hail...snow man Slang dough, E, hydro man... [Beanie Sigel] ...no, B. Sige in
you see Starlight open wide, Andy's Cecil B. DeMille Come on L. A. give us a call We've got superstars who talk, they'll do anything at all Ingrid,
past the seats Me with the twin eagle, B. Sigel and Bleek And I got the whole city ready to throw toast wit' me I'm loved, niggas want to throw
A troupe of strolling players are we, not stars like L. B. Mayer's are we, But just a simple band who roams about the land, Dispensing plentyof
Jason B. Sad was a lonely lad His head was a bed for everyone His clothes was his life But his heart was a knife Inscribed on it was "rock 'n'
A troupe of strolling players are we, not stars like L. B. Mayer's are we, But just a simple band who roams about the land, Dispensing plentyof
Dogg is a G Ask P. Diddy, Lil' Cease, and Queen B. Eatin up at Justin's you seen me, rappin Stackin my weapon in the limo And 15 niggas tryin to hand
nighttime Good times bad times When I was down and showed up B. You're on my mind Oh yeah, you're on my mind I tried forgettin' you girl Tried
never give Rap is my shiv But it's like my shield at the same time I wield, I'ma knife this will Sometimes I feel just like B. Real from Cypress Hill
speak to me for days at a time Oh baby, I know you're gettin' old And your little temper b. won't really mind Oh, we'll be sittin' close together
remember when I fell down some stairs I was lyin' underneath the bottle Oooohh whee, son of a B. You get so down, you can't get any lower So long
you see Starlight open wide, Andy's Cecil B. DeMille Come on L. A. give us a call We've got superstars who talk, they'll do anything at all Ingrid,
(b. andersson, b. ulvæus) Scaramouche (instrumental) Varför ska det vara så seriöst för, alltid? Nä, I england
Now Peter Piper picked peppers, but Run rapped rhymes Humpty Dumpty fell down, that's his hard time Jack B. Nimble, what, nimble, and he was quick
two-toned shoes, And I can sing the blues. [Chorus:] Look out, kids, it's the F. B. I. We got a problem, you keep me high. Put on your clothes, take
She's got a T-Top Camaro with a scoop on the hood And two big speakers blasting Johnny B. Goode Looking so sweet it oughta be a crime She plays
you could Howling like you can It gets me thinking of Johnny B. Good But you know you ain't no man When I heard you play I knew your name should
born. So, now) [Chorus] Hoist up the John b's sails. (John B. sails) See how the main sails set. (Main sails set.) Call for the captain ashore,
outta line and I'ma give ya the blues, whoa! Guess who's bizack? The boy B. Mizack, a.k.a. Mr. Crack-A-Brick Turn a whole one from a half a brick,
around town it was well understood That I was knockin' 'em out like Johnny B. Goode Hot licks, showin' off, ah number one. Well , I 'd practice all
outta line and I'ma give ya the blues, whoa! Guess who's bizack? The boy B. Mizack, a.k.a. Mr. Crack-A-Brick Turn a whole one from a half a brick,
ducked E&J fell out my cup Them bullets fly by, that shit sober you up I'm proud of my niggas, they never switched up Don't care if it's Michael B.
it and Cali-G in California is 'bout it, 'bout it Mo B. Dick (if you 'bout it) you know he's 'bout it 'bout it Nick Pokey you know he's 'bout it
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