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Yee yee! We've found 193 lyrics and 132 artists matching sack full of dreams by nancy monroe.
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Eve, by the leaves, every 6 with the year Girls and boys full off joy with the season cheer Smell the sky, hella pies and cakes gettin' baked To be
Uh yeah First off congratulations Y'all got another cypher Cause by my calculations The last cypher was my last cypher But aberration happen and it’s
think i wanna be faggot, man a mincing ninny, prancing fairy, merry little queen, a Bruce LaBruce wet dream, a nancy boy with wings, I wanna be, I wanna
Dripping thru the lane And we looking fantastic Gold by the packet Ripping off the plastic Back in my domain we about to make a classic Beat going
and I'm turnt I had a dream Had to turn it down, life ain't what it seem Now I got these chains, yeah, they glisten, yeah they beam Group full of killers,
or written I promise no kitten I'm slayin the bitches Till resting in caskets just me and the mrs Or me and the misfits Signed by Monroe These the commandments
or written I promise no kitten I'm slayin the bitches Till resting in caskets just me and the mrs Or me and the misfits Signed by Monroe These the commandments
[Verse 1: Marion Write] I'm just doin' my thing, doin', I'm doin' my thing Plans to put ice on a ring finger, is only a dream Plans to get rich for my
ride that crazy horse? Inquires the shadow with little remorse Just then a priest comes down the stairs With a sack of dreams and old nightmares
Ridin' on the City of New Orleans Illinois Central Monday morning rail 15 cars and 15 restless riders 3 conductors and 24 sacks of mail All along
sacks of mail. All along the southbound odyssey The train pulls out at Kankakee Rolls along past houses, farms and fields. Passin' trains that have no
run at you Yeah All I wanna do is Sit back, smoke sacks, bump my new shit Ahhhh All I wanna do is Sit back, smoke sacks, bump my new shit Uh
and got ah sack and grabbed a smith and western Looked at the projects like I got us ima be a legend Look in the mirror like I'm tired of stressing If
Yeah it's right by my britches Count up that sack I'm all up in mamma kitchen Calling her phone Your b**** she ain't missing Box with her cat you
a mandolin Scrambling these words together, no one fucks with fancy pants I'm vain as fuck, can't walk by a mirror without a handsome glance! I'm a sick
just a gnat My stepper can't be televised, he's known to twitch like Kai Cenat All of my ropes is gold, I'm using them bitches to tie up the sack I
just a gnat My stepper can't be televised, he's known to twitch like Kai Cenat All of my ropes is gold, I'm usin' them bitches to tie up the sack I
crazy horse? Inquires the shadow with little remorse Just then a priest comes down the stairs With a sack of dreams and old nightmares. Who are you,
(I'm gonna sing you one of my favorite songs) (This is written by a good friend of mine) (By the name Steve Goodman) Ridin' on the City of New
(I'm gonna sing you one of my favorite songs) (This is written by a good friend of mine) (By the name Steve Goodman) Ridin' on the City of New
Stung by a wasp in a dream the disgust Knowing full well that I lack the trust I hate the fuss and I like to fuck A prodigy monogamy and all that
Sometimes it's on the right It depends on the way you're going Sometimes Nick spits on the mic I've got one backpack, but wanna take both sacks off Only one
Mazdas, Tammy and Natasha The menage-a-trois is at my crib Like Ill and Al Skratch smokin' 50 Sacks in the back of Ac's Windows cracked, so sit back relax
and twenty-five sacks of mail They're all out on the southbound odyssey And the train pulls out of Kankakee Rolls past the houses, farms and fields Passin'
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