Lyrics:
basements, like them sisters at NASA, Face It
Black girl magic has always been an understatement
But while Black resilience is more blatant, centuries
ahold of me and tightening its grip,
tighter than a pair of my little sister's jeans.
.. which look great on my by the way.
When I get depressed I cut my
the tidal wave
There's a suffering sister whose sorrow seeds are sown
Overcome by the bluster of upper crusted drones
Who float above it all
Where do we go in
I walked through the door with you, the air was cold
But somethin' 'bout it felt like home somehow
And I left my scarf there at your sister's house
They
'boutta hit this muhfuckin' album
(Oh oh-Oh, yeah yeah yeah yeah, whoa)
Yeah-Yeah-Yeah-Yeah
I done seen a lot of things, yeah yeah
Nowadays, sit
sister, we'd hide out in the tall corn fields
Sit and listen to the mansion on the hill
Tonight down here in Linden Town
I watch the cars rushing by
Okay, and who are you here to see?
Uh, Snoop Dogg? Says here Snoop D-o-g-g
Oh, yeah. He's right down the hall
First door to your right
Give him a knock
sister, we'd hide out in the tall corn fields
Sit and listen to the mansion on the hill
Tonight down here in Linden Town
I watch the cars rushing by
something they’ll remember
Before they crown us kings, rest in peace young simba
We have come this far by faith, leaning on the Lord
But now you got to get
paralyzed by it
I'd like to be my old self again but I'm still tryin' to find it
After plaid shirt days and nights when you made me your own
Now you mail
the front door all night willing you to come
And he said, "It's supposed to be fun turnin' twenty-one"
Time won't fly, it's like I'm paralyzed by it
I'd
by it
I'd like to be my old self again but I'm still tryin' to find it
After plaid shirt days and nights when you made me your own
Now you mail back
be doing anything at all, thank you so much to G0d
Therеs my mother, my lovely mother who is likе my number one fan
No matter how many times shes heard
of an album, babe
No time for breakfast, babe
I’ll be your once in a while
I’m pretty bad at explaining this to others
Like describing highways they’ve never
how we live
Here we are
The final track before the album
Who'd a thought that the basis would be the outcome
Strive be like pop
Pullin bars outta
on the tape, Donald-D break
Syndicate comin' through, I'm talkin' to you
Flexin' hardcore, what could you do?
When we roll up, you send your girl up
down
And I was just tellin' little sister
That I knew we'd see you again someday
But, Daddy, why did it have to be this way
Why did it
they'd broken up we were not to interfere (Uh huh)
What you know 'bout not being able to see your baby sister
Held hostage by a wicked woman for years but
berattas, stack cheddar
When the Village was termed the Felix Mitchell, D and Black era
Real goodfellas, the whole Ville was down for whatever
Protected by
Evans
Bob Evans, yeah, I got that association, Bob Evans"
I was with my friend's sister Debbie
When I was 18 in Ohio at a local thrash metal show
We
ones
By the time I was 19, 20
Had a few albums
And I was producing more
Even hooked up with a band
After we jammed
On a music course
Ironi, the name fit
crazy, though libido isn't guido
It seems suited like custom tuxedos
Double 007 Friday on Gunn Highway
Yea had her triggered by squeezing GlokkNine
See
"'The Charabanc Trip' by Ivor Biggun accompanied by Robin Langridge, aged 14, at the piano forte.
Music maestro please!"
On the map of North Notts
my baby back
To the heart of Harlem
Big sister had a group
And they'd sit out on the stoop
And Lordy could they harmonize (Oh yeah)
My cousin
.jpg/300px-Sister_Hazel_(2174716298).jpg "Sister Hazel")
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