Lyrics:
two bad apples
On our family tree
Kind of ripened and rotted
In our puberty
Two kindred spirits bound by destiny
Well now I was smart
But I lacked
and rottened in our puberty
Two kindred spirits bound by destiny
Well now I was smart but I lacked ambition
Johnny was wild with no inhibition
Was about like
for this man overflows to his fans
It's time I educate these idiots
The best that I can
They're so amused by his abuse of rap music
I'll have to craft
and told me to take my mind off that weed
Now by the third day of Christmas, my big homeboy gave to me
A whole lot of everything, and it wasn't nuthin' but
Pawhoo hoo hoo hoo
I don’t wanna be your man, bitch (Fuck that)
What you crazy
I don’t wanna be your fuckin' man
You stupid you fuckin' idiot (Drunk
needs (Jesus, Lord)
Sittin' by myself, I'm just thinkin'
About all I've been through, I wish I was dreamin' (Jesus)
Man, it's hard to be an angel
needs (Jesus, Lord)
Sittin' by myself, I'm just thinkin'
About all I've been through, I wish I was dreamin' (Jesus)
Man, it's hard to be an angel
Remove my shoes for foot races, primitive man ate fish
But M C's are the latest on my dish mentally spacious
You didn't create this so you, naturally hate
no watch mate
Make a gyal know dem pot you nah scrape
Scrape
You look good, gyal you have your cute face
Man a mad over your looks and shape well
Big
The walk's by faith
The lone wolf dies
How am I gonna follow you
With blue man ears
And snow blind eyes?
Music by Peter Furler / Lyrics by Steve Taylor
gotta say thanks
Ya
[Talking]
Uh huh, I really need you
[Chorus x2]
Shout out to Nikki from Jersey by the way, she thinks I'm the sexy man
fight fi a cause (cause)
Big up all di warrior from the present to the past
An who know dem fight fi a cause
[Verse 1: Elephant Man]
Well some say dem
with a paper bag (gang, gang, gang, gang)
Ayy
Ayy, ayy, ayy
Ayy, I'm back on my dirt bag (dirt bag)
I'm back off that Henny in a brown bag
Stick
Ya don't know who I am
Who you
Let me introduce myself
I'm King Nino
Nino Brizzy Brown
New York
Manhattan
Lower East Side
Killer Hill
Rutgers
come down ruffneck like this now seen?
Mad Lion hold tight
[Chorus]
Brown skin woman, you a queen, not a hoe
Any man that drop the lyric what we
Ayo check this out son
This is my man Nas Escobar
And I go by the name of Cormega you know
(you gonna get your self murdered)
Yo check this out
the
Missiles slow you down
Sup with BIG? Pass the microphone to you
So I can take a puff
Who throw gats to Guiliani?
Flows tighter than pigeon punani, try me
Catch me rollin' through the city
Ridin' with the top off
Man, my whip so big when you in it
Fuck around and get lost
Told my bitch to let her
Brr, Lord let me catch my drift, ah
Roll a big chopper
While the ride getting wiped down
The white I got right now
Will turn your wife light-brown
of the story is, we gots to get
Some motherfuckin' understanding or else
All frowns, no smiles, no more Black on Brown
Let's get togethеr and show 'em
How we
specialize in misconstruin'
We wanna be at a presidential level, what are we doin'?
Foolin' ourselves, clownin' ourselves, playin' ourselves
By not bein'
specialize in misconstruin'
We wanna be at a presidential level, what are we doin'?
Foolin' ourselves, clownin' ourselves, playin' ourselves
By not bein'
a grown ass bitch with my own ass shit
Now hear dis, you no wan' chat? Me a go BUST unnu secret
Ya a big battyman, ya love look man bottom
Pussy
that's the color of the big boss man
It was a twenty-piece orchestra at the Warwick hotel
With some fat man from the opera who tried to sing misty
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