Lyrics:
gone, he a dead man (He through)
Say my name on his song, he a dead man (That's your ass)
Tryna hide behind your niggas, that's your man's ass (nigga)
cited by procon and Rapped to a tune fast
This song ain't about getting high man
It's about rising above the tyrant
Ride this beat to the skies man
You'll
through the layers of smog
Feeling down by law like I was Jim Jarmusch
Pictures in my brain just like Diane Arbus
Too much combustion gets my brain
don't know myself no more
She used to be the life of the party for true
And now she going out hardly ever
Her man got her in the yard forever
on and pretty soon
An old man with a comb-over had sold us the moon
We stayed tuned in, now here we are
Reality killed by a reality star
I got the talking
started
Pros-per-een
Why would you leave me alone?
Man, this world got me chilled to the bone
Make it end, and sit me by the throne!
This isn't cool!
Created by white men or any other white man
That pretended he originated
And contended that he innovated a jazz thing
Of course we know who can really blow
is Parson Brown
He'll say "Are you married?"
We'll say "No, man
But you can do the job when you're in town"
Later on we'll conspire
As we dream by
girls that your man ain't treating you right!
Let me tell you, I don't mean no wrong,
I will learn you somethin' if you listen to this song!
I ain't
curves, and a little bit of weed
You just do you baby Imma do me
Imma stay right here I'll be stranded by the sea
I'm on the blue slide at the bottom
they sleep)
By the time I’m done mercking this song we gonna need to find somebody to clean it up
Oh man swear God man I’m heating up (Hot)
Yeah
Swear
The red is for blood shed
The blue is for the sad ass songs
We be singin' in church
While white man's heaven is black man's hell
The stars what we way
body rock
Well so far you've heard my voice but I brought two friends along,
And the next on the mic is my man Hank,
C'mon, Hank, sing that song
violets, blue, they don't give a what
Roses are red, violets are blue
I really just don't give a fuck about you
The day is still shy and the nights are
Dem boy deh a
Lynch man, pon di cross and a go a church and a sing songs
'Bout Christians pon a Sunday and a praise God
Dem a demons
Blue lies I see
[Featuring Westside Connection]
West syy eed
Huh niggaz be like wonderin where tha Ice Cream Man been at
I been down South countin my
gave a damn
Man, they damn sure told you wrong
I've had ramblin' fever all along
Ramblin' fever
The kind that can't be measured by degrees
Waist deep
Yeah caught in the struggles of a young man
Still feel like I'm running
Can never catch me
Head down when I'm gunning for the zen flow
hustlin' up the dirty deep
Betta watch them dirty boys down south we keep it dirty g
I know you heard of me
I got that work
Man I got that white and I
man so strong
For her faith is belief in what can't be seen
And mine was on singing in old blue jeans
I sing the words to some old country songs
Your mother, you fuckin' faggot
Ayo, this next song
Is dedicated to the memory of Erik Shrody
Rest in peace, we ain't forget about you
You
that the love they shared was true
Far away the fiddler's bowing, the grass forever blue
It was in the dead of winter when her man first caught
of the song
So tell me, do you wanna live to see tomorrow
Gotta stop focusing on all of your sorrows
I grew up, now it’s about time to be a man
Gonna kick all
my song
If I cannot have your love, I'll sing the blues
Every time I'm feeling low and far away
All the time I think of you every second of the day
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