Lyrics:
a fan of me
Looking at me crazy was pure insanity
Ten hours go by not panicking
I just sat there still like a mannequin
I was laughing they kept
A baby bird with brand new wings
A little girl on a playground swing
The elderly lose their teeth
And little old me, I lost my key
So I stay
feeling hated
And when I'm down finna fly to where the grass Jamaican
And we can be some Masons, and we can study greatness
I bet the afro is black
learned by them Kurds about them dollars and cents
It was never my transaction it was however I did it
I was impressed with the whips
I asked my father
see it
The King's got the keys so he speak and he frees it, Jesus
[Chorus]
Can you see its all in vain (all in vain)
And it breaks my heart to see
honey come on in" - female singer
That they baby girls know, we ain't forget about you word up
She understand my hustle, and the black man family
to start molding clay
From a makeshift wedding band to a personalized skeleton key
Even I agree that being alone is a definite possibility
It's all lip
all keys to depravation
Call me by my countless names
Emptiness, confusion, despair
Satan tempting himself
The serpent swallowing its tail
Call me
woman, made me stop and pivot
Body, hair, face, nails lookin' so exqusite
Now what is it
That a pimp who never sent the key tip to the game
Now when I jump
a top case
In the race we done did that, candy blue
In the lap, wearing a black hat fuck that
Somebody fin to get done, till everybody be gon
scratched
In fact, now that I think, back, I was gettin macked
by a tender, oh yeah now I remember
Vanessa from Maryland, aggressive and tanned
It was
(Preaching):
(Matthew 16:19)
It says "And I will give unto thee the Keys of the Kingdom of Heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt bind on Earth shall be
a key
Start you up and you comin home wit me
My whip
-Shag Nasty
I wish a hoe would scratch my whip
Hell yea ima act up and start to trip
Some niggas
big
I be stuttin' on that ass
Screech pop up out the dash
Beep, beep, who got the keys to the Caprice?
4/50 engine is obese
Pull up by twenty-five
to start molding clay
From a makeshift wedding band to a personalized skeleton key
Even I agree that being alone is a definite possibility
It's all lip
Charles Gibbs
Words and Music Chris Foster
Copyright May 3rd 2003
Terror on the high seas wrought by Charles Gibbs
Brandishing his sword in pirate
this bitch the night before Christmas
Baby made my hitlist Christmas night
She let a nigga hit by Christmas lights
This bitch was tight, just my type
and my soul is black
NECRONOMICON, SOFOMON'S KEY, EIBON'S BOOK and
DE VERMIS MYSTERIES (Forbidden books, unholy thoughts)
I've talked to the dead
sipping on Hi-see
Tropicana, here's the key to the banana, what about the scandalous
And Fraiser that he say, that he made the people
'Cause they be
a couple
Duffle bags full of weapons and narcatics
4 Desert Eagles and a key of hydro-ponic
It's ironic pounds of chronic
When I blaze
The place is full
twins in this shit
Like piano keys, two junkies, we'll be right back
(White-black)
And if you hit me, Stak gone feel it, dawg and Blac won't like that
hustle make me California grind
Getting mine, so we don't waste nobody's time
Pick up my pants and tuck away my black nine
Hard rhyme, that's all I got
I could sit at home another Saturday
And channel surf my life away
Gonna grab my keys,
Get behind the wheel
Got no where to go,
Just like
obey their summons
Or vainly we will fall in despair
For they are the keys of ascension
To the hidden gates of liberty
By injustice we are enslaved
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