Lyrics:
Kruchy lod Cienkie szklo Steve McQueen, Romy S. Johnie L., Elvis P. Martwy film Martwy blues Kruche szklo Cienki lod Czas olowiu. Sluchaj, to jest
Dillo a Sara, qui c'ho 13 centimetri di spessore Esagerato come S. Pellegrino La mia foto per santino Faccia da galera, S. Quintino Salmone e
quicky little hitties in the parking lot Reading William S. Burroughs like a beatnik freak Say there's poetry in the way we fall asleep Grow your own
Mike Ovitz Michael S. Ovitz Mike Ovitz, I wanna be Mike Ovitz Michael S. Ovitz Mike Ovitz, I wanna be Why can't I be Michael Ovitz? I
Charles Dickens I've got the girlies in the Couple like the Colonel's got the chickens And I always go out dapper like Harry S. Truman I'm madder than
Charles Dickens I've got the girlies in the Couple like the Colonel's got the chickens And I always go out dapper like Harry S. Truman I'm madder than
of the old S. P. And of all you had, through good and bad A half always belonged to me You made me promise to you, Jack If I lived and you cashed in
without a doubt I'm comin' back and if you don't know call me S. I. R. T. double O I like to say these rhymes, I do it all the time I make my own
To Thomas S. Eiselberg, a very rich man Who was wise enough to spend all his fortunes In burying himself many miles beneath the ground As the only
of the old S. P. And of all you had, through good and bad A half always belonged to me; You made me promise to you, Jack If I lived and you cashed in
the boy-boys go nuts (uh-huh) All the dope boys, all the boys wanna fuck (yeah) My nigga S. Beezy keep my wrist breezy (uh-huh) Why would I go hard when this
bout to pop Then, Roc-A-Fella y'all, it's your boy S. Dot And I ain't never been to jail, I ain't never pay a nigga To do no dirt for me I was scared
bout to pop Then, Roc-A-Fella y'all, it's your boy S. Dot And I ain't never been to jail, I ain't never pay a nigga To do no dirt for me I was scared
Viva, Little Joe, Baby Jane, and Edie S. But you better call us soon before we talk ourselves to death Starlight open wide everybody is a star Split
the goods we was given And God bless the U. S. of A. And God bless the standard of livin' Let's keep it that way And we'll all have a good time Have
Viva, Little Joe, Baby Jane, and Edie S. But you better call us soon before we talk ourselves to death Starlight open wide everybody is a star Split
(Yodel) A lonely spot I know where no man may go Where the shadows have all of the room I was ridin' free on that old S. P. Hummin' a southern
you'll always be number two Niggaz talkin' real greasy on them R&B records But I'm platinum a million times nigga, check the credits S. Carter, ghost
you'll always be number two Niggaz talkin' real greasy on them R&B records But I'm platinum a million times nigga, check the credits S. Carter, ghost
and a S. Dot ring, Sean Don for my crew, bad hoes in pursuit, Masspike on a two, Gunplay he a glue goon wit a attitude (Holla!) Swimmin' in women, champagne
director in Bromsgrove. He's a freemason, And prospective Tory MP.. that's Mr S. of Bromsgrove... ?3,000... SUPERIMPOSED CAPTION: '?3000' (which flashes
for me face the judge and lie for me P. I. T. T. S. B. U. R. G. H. Represent to the fullest And I'm putting cowards back into place When I'm
the fuck you recordin' for, Nick Jr? (The game ain't changed) It just got harder Plus we sponsored by Laze, Dame Dash and Mr. S. Carter Brownsville (yep),
Kruchy lód Cienkie szkło Steve McQueen, Romy S. Johnie L., Elvis P. Martwy film Martwy blues Kruche szkło Cienki lód Czas ołowiu. Słuchaj, to jest
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