Lyrics:
knew a psycho)
703's on my love bug
I made mates with the brothers up in 215
Crazy Buddhas in my mind
My Chattanooga champ had me late for
the sign of Scorpio
I was born in a boring town called Corning
Yo lordy yo!
By age five, Mom and Dad are split
But I survive
Surmise that my imaginary
a sea of distress
Keep your more to receive your less
Unimpressed by material excess
Love is free love me say hell yes
I'm a low brow but I rock a little
On everything I love, It's We The Best Music
It's We The Best over everything
Get money, mo' money
Every time we come around
Doors goin' up, panties
This meeting just begun, nigga I'm Satan's son
My mother raised me a single parent so it's apparent
That I got love for my mother, none of you other
on some night moves like Bob Seger
High on life, right here and now
Just a little bit more than the law will allow
Marchin' to the beat of my own drum
Got
thats the dip because tha benz is on my hip
They love me cuz I tell them what they really wanna hear
Slap by on that booty with a hundred dolla bill
lungs explode
I look for my brother
Where is my brother
Inside this dark shroud?
My imaginary friend
Where are you now?
So much doubt
The sounds of our
and prone to combustion
They fought like dogs in Spanish and made love in Russian
I wish Newberry and Buck White would drop on by the house tonight
organized plan
Get a van move down by the river man
Throw me a coconut, crack it open and drink it up
A bit of herb mixed with spliff tobacco
Good for a sore
no backin' out
Aye, I got love for the two of us
When it comes to us, I'm 0-1
When I drag my heart, it weighs a ton
Love you like my mama's son
Lets pretend that I got a fly ride with nothing but time and an empty seat up by my side
And lets pretend that it can coast on autopilot my hands
to find love when you chillin’ on the stoep
Colder than a 40 in my youth
Yeah
A 40 year old that is
I just hope I don’t get used to this
Twenty something
Fix my eyes on the cross
Fix my eyes on the boss
I ain't tryna flop no
Wait my time get the gwop
Build my house call me bob
Ya dun know
Spit hard
young Nardi thinking
Decade went by 'fore I got to blinking
Big Idea maybe the music's my thing
What a ride these memories bring
Asparaguys and gals
in
Play Thas that nipsy hussle
Motivated by my seeds i over fill
The duffle
Let a pussy come between stuff em in a oven
Um flyin over seas in another
My Truly, Truly Fair
Guy Mitchell
Backed by Mitch Miller and his Orchestra
Written by Bob Merrill
Peaked at # 2 in 1951
Competing versions
else's crimes
You don't need to answer for what happens in their minds
You are not confined by their imaginary lines
You don't need permission to exist
grandma to come home (Oh, oh, oh)
Guess I'm living in an imaginary place
I say, I guess I'm livin' like a villain up inside his last days
Can't buy my
and laughter
Homicide is humor and nigga you looking funny
Women love to stare cause they know they see the money
I open up my mind by opening bank accounts
my love, not my scars and memories
Addicted to bitches and succubuses in the business
Subtracted by my vision, threw me over my mission (listen)
Was
a magnet to the ear
[Break - RZA]
We've come to +Show you Love+, son, we've come to show you
Whether you my b****, my n****, or I don't know you
a magnet to the ear
[Break - RZA]
We've come to +Show U Love+, son, we've come to show you
Whether you my bitch, my nigga, or I don't know you
Wu-Tang
who giggle walking by
People love Bob Dylan, Johnny Cash and The Stones
But no one seems to give a damn when I play one of my own
I guess that's
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