Lyrics:
the bay
Planets play by seasons
Somewhere in their field grounds
I've got limits but not scared to die
A rare soul is a friend of hope
Just make sure
but some how im still finding me,
Shit I’m finding peace
no regrets, no apology,
smoking Reaper's Cut dead high
out in the West, but we still
lookin' out my window
Witches come
Take their turn, one by one and
I watch 'em burn
(Watch them burn, watch them burn)
And I'll run for your shelter
that you can't leave behind
Lady, you go far too deep
That's by far too deep
Angel
Hold my life for a while
On a winter day
We might run
was dead so they still was talking to his corpse
I wrote classics, spoke with passion with no practice
The poems I'm rapping be the reason I'm gold
nose
She said said oh just leave it go
I swore that he was dead
In the morning then
We went to walk along down by the sea shore
Talking about the night
black double R, get him on bike
R6, two riders
Yeah, I roll deep in the ringer
Fuck it
Got no keys for the Bimmer
Fuck
Niggas ain't done no drive-by
probably me
I remember December middle of a bitter winter
Ass on the trunk feet swinging by the fender
Arguing with you in the freezing cold
I was wrong you
of the dead-cart calls for me
You'll alone but it's okay, no more red crosses
Lavender's blue, dilly dilly, lavender's green
When I am King, dilly dilly, you shall
on your block for three summers and four winters
Chinchilla cold with the soul of a young old nigga
I never been hoed by any thot or gold digger
The 44
It was late with the TV flicker
Sittin' down in the dead of winter
Getting warm with the cheap spiced liquor
Tryin' link up a way to escape a little
nigga Im the anchor of the franchise (never take an L)
Always win it by a landslide
Finna go ham for my niggas in the sandlot
Niggas ain't winning long
'member how to say goodbye
Then get ready to die, dead
Don't understand why all these birds fled
They going south for the winter I
Ain't even at my hottest
are the gavel
And now you fuckin' dead, under gravel
Didn't work through the winter now your summer unravels
Now let me show you how a winner teach
filled with beloved flesh
Cold as the world around
I can't believe what my eyes see through clouds of icy breath
No bird sings in dead trees
No
Bless the mind of a quiet child
Give him a reason to crack a smile
He may not be a happy boy
But there are moments he may enjoy
Winter clothes
it echoes through the hills
Through no one living ever left
This is Kolyma - a graveyard for the lost
The muffled sounds of cries and moans
Od
[Music / Lyrics by Torbjærn Weinesjæ]
These walls are made of glass
Not concrete as they seems
What is wrong with this picture
Behold
a poor man's litter
Blind, embarrassed and embittered
Crying in Paris, dead of Winter
Fly to Amsterdam and get fucked!
Take me by the wrist. Feel my pulse
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