Lyrics:
evermore, because of Christmas Day
Mary's boy child Jesus Christ, was born on Christmas Day
While shepherds watch their flocks by night
They see a bright
of the instrumental
2020, I hit the bigger doubles, Full Circle living, so I hit the bigger hustles
Big by design, but I shine on the front line
Born for my destiny,
a variety of secret societies
We were born on this earth by default
And the police just wanna indict we
I need some soul music - I feel that shit in me
of my city
Ghetto… nigga from the projects
Talk it and I did it
I was born in 92 but I’m the 23 of my city
Got my homies here wit me
Gotta bad bitch by
me when I'm down bad
Type of shit will make you flinch yeah I was born with a clip
By some lonely skonka bitch that always throwing the fists
We like
said,
"I was born to die by the gun"
"I was born to die by the gun"
"I was born to die by the gun"
He's a Hunter with a Crosscut Saw.
Born Under A Bad Sign.
Caught his baby messin' down the Laundromat.
He Almost Lost his Mind.
Yeah!
He was born in
soul
I'm a bad boy by reputation yeah it's all I know
If I was born to raise some hell let's see how far I can go
If good guys never win and bad boys run
mic clutch
Hey ?bob by the ba?, said you keep your day job
My competitors never know the right touch
Have to bail through the backstreets, raisin' hell
dim sum wit a bad bitch
You know me well
Ben Kenobe, homie
Covered by the holy veil
Once upon a time there was a boy born in the snow
Ice on his wings
time
If yuh hate fine mi nuh pay mind
Mi have a great mind fi nuh waste time
Place shake like ah waist line
Couple mil inna mi stash guarded by mi canine
Da da da da da da
Yea
Da da da
A toast to the bad guy
With bad bitchs the bad times el pass by
An da da da
Toast to a good man
Who did his best
but you let it go by, yee
I was just fucked up, I was just down, down bad
I had to tighten the fuck up, but I'm here for the crown, crown (oh, shit)
the jackals sit and watch the pedigods last flesh
Poison functions accompanied by six armor clad
Black horse and buggy mechanism
Tugged a portion of my
sure you stop by my dreams
When I'm sleepin' at night
Now a piece of my heart
Is lookin' down from the sky
Like an angel on my shoulder
Helpin'
wimme, no name drop so I'm callin' her Tiffany
She get lit off the motherfuckin' Whitney, bitch so bad she tryna get wimme
In the pussy like I'm born
The true son perhaps
Believes god lives
Within a lie
In valid
For thirty eight years
You well again
Stop sinning or else
Something bad will happen
For
bloodshot eyes
Realize we're all born to die
So get the money nigga!
Tequila Sunrise, with the bloodshot eyes
My, my, my, how time flies and goes by
alarm when the k go off
The scheme hott g city nuh laugh
Mi ah killer from me born
Not just bad in meh song
Play with yuh life pussy end up
sung
I feel bad
I feel bad
Just done a gig and danced around
The oldest living teenager born to fool a crowd
I don’t feel cool no I don’t feel proud
I need a bag,
I need a check and a dinner plate
Get it straight
I was down bad
I came so far from the bottom steps
No regrets
Show me that bag
I need
Born by womb deep in the heart
Breastfeed by bites of broken souls
Feeded by pain, acts of dirt
Predefined to damage, without feel of guilt
Born
[Originally by Albert King]
Born under a bad sign
I been down since I begin to crawl
If it wasn't for bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all
BAD LUCK CHUCK
(Words by Age Sten Nilsen - Music by Bernt Jansen, Trond Holter, Age Sten Nilsen, Øystein Andersen)
Spoken:Oh how do you do?
Here's
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