Lyrics:
stepping by
Without me dying for her touch
I'm gonna keep on longing for her
To one of us hits the trail
I say, any kind of love walking in a dead mans pair
room singer
She was as good as anyone
But I ask her to stop singing
And the girl she did not flinch
Next day she went and bought that man
A brand
the streets then it's on sight
Bad lil' bitch she my wife
Got a ring on her finger
Treat her like Beyoncé
She's not a singer
But she do what I say, when I say
Last week, this old man I had to blast
'Cause he tried to help me out when my car was out of gas
Ripped this old lady, hung her neck by a hook
Didn't
the song but I recall a story that I heard
And as I look down on this city I remember each and every word
The singer sang about a jealous cowboy
gotta leave by yourself, ya hear
Everything is a dolo
I been lookin' at you dance like a Go-go
Girl, hold that for the photo
Ain't got drink in your cup,
since my
Childhood, and there was a
Young man playing a
Guitar he was playing a flamenco guitar
And he was surrounded by two or three girls
And boys who
Searching for a reason to go astray
You couldn't hire twenty-five men
To do what the man could do
Just the sound of his walking
Could split the whole
Well, we're the freaks of the industry.
My man, Money be , Oh my mellow, Shock G
The freaks of the industry,
And when you see us back stage, be
It's the D double E J
The second that you hear this track
You'll blast it back
Yeah that a fact, man it's on replay
Can you feel me?
Are you moving
I took my baby dancing, to see a heavy band
But I never saw my baby till the encore
She had the singer by the hand
I didn't want to cry 'cause I
blues
Put on the new record by Baker's Pool
The singer's kind of whack but the bass player's cool
Cooler than me
So I go to the mall by myself
And not buy
hit by the karma
Got some guns but ain't no farmer
Man I ain't no farmer, knock me down but I come back harder
When I come back harder
Watch a man get
country
Anybody can be overcome by sorrow and desperation
And while I am just one man with one voice
I can lift it up in a hopeful message
That wherever
LOUISIANA MAN
WITH THE POZO SECO SINGERS)
WRITER DOUG KERSHAW
At first Mom and Poppa called the little girl a lady
They raised her on the banks
is all a ploy
'Cause you can't really score a chick
Just by bein' a folk-singin' boy
You gotta show her
That you're a man
Who gets things done
As much
Dora Hand was a singer in the New York operetta
Born into Boston old money, and Paris trained
Dressed in black, she was a classic beauty but cursed
it is yo, D-Az, straight in
Yo, I am a rapper slash and singer-songwriter
From when I was a young guy
Even up to this day
Man are tryna drag me under
other way to word it got my feelings scurred and
By the, bullet of bad, the singer of sad, songs to make you long for your mom and your dad
Plaid class
to act foolish (Hey)
And you know them boys ain't
Playing by the rules (Woo)
Young guns running
We have any girl we choose
Bad and you nervous, man
Them
Just got laid off, man I look in the mirror
Saying something got to change
I manifest with the words in my mouth
By the end of the year boy they
a Players Ball right here on W Balls
Pimp fun under the sun
That's right, we're doin' it live with Soopafly
Too $hort and my main man Doggy Dogg
I had
[Intro: Bizzy (Playalitical)]
What's goin on, what's up my nuh?
Ay Paul man, roll up some weed, why'knowmsayin?
We 'bout to rock this shit, with
the most hoes
The R&B singers or the niggaz with flows
So what I did was take a poll, like Clinton versus Dole
(So the fake rappers wouldn't be out
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