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Search results for 'some mothers son by bill whelan' Page #33
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Beautiful Black mothers, you raised so many of us They built abortion clinics by your house to take you from us Beautiful Black fathers, I know your back
for my mother's son Only got one brother, so I'm talking bout the other one Trying to keep it friendly with these people getting cumbersome Y'all
the East There's a rumblin' in the ground and they're talkin' about the beast Good mothers cry 'cause the rivers run high With the blood of too many sons
Tah you be getting high And that's, no mother, fuckin lie Until the day I die, I'ma always puff lye Niggaz, take care of people, still some tough
say up to this point. My reputation is at stake, this where the men are mad Separate, me from the sons put me with the big guns. My energy now
change that (C Notes by the layers, true fucking players) (C Notes by the layers, true fucking players) (C Notes by the layers, true fucking players) (C
"Ms. Jenkins" A lot of tears shed over what you been through, A mothers pain pays, for what her kid do, As Bryan life fades, in the rear view, You
Neter in a love letter Dove tears in the inkwell for a dove feather I make a dovetail when I spread the bills, blood money Heard blood sells, said it
Chill where you been at I’m like bitch why don’t you chill I’ve been getting money trying to pay all of my bills They say that I’m sleep well I’m
some strings like a puppeteer Anyways, I'm wavy He said babe you thick like gravy They my sons, so I'm acting shady You couldn't touch my crown if you
to the maximum Wait 'til my grip get's traction son Get loose like a juice on me Emcees wishin' I come along and drip it some Yeah, me is my persona hotter Than
Who said we ain't shiiit bruhh! (Ain't nobody gon step on my nigga) U don't wanna shit on ylo bruhh (Yo we on some 27 shit) Tryna get the racks up
I bought a bourgeois house in the Hollywood hills With a truckload of hundred thousand dollar bills Man came by to hook up my cable TV We settled
accepted defeat Who took sons from mothers and fathers from memory Who payed with blood for serving their country Its the uncommon valour of soldiers
often followed closely by these tears of sorrow Check in on your happy friends Trauma don't discriminate Sighs of many mothers Daughters go through raping
You are now tuning in for some Orange county west coast shit! From Anaheim baby! Shout out to la free drakeo! I ain't no fake rapper No fake flexer
Heaven is home Heaven is home Walking with Jesus is sweet down here But heaven is home I visited my mother's grave in my mind last night It was dark
gone Our Lester's gone from our home That's what his mother cried The phone smashed on the floor she knows where her son lies His room's the same
people I'm trying to rise Out the gutters, no we don't have gutters We have dirt roads walked bare foot by our mothers On a daily basis, tears on my
break you Mother told me to stand up Boy you rise, don't you be afraid And if life gives you lemons Then just make you some lemonade And don't give in
We're gonna take this, opportunity To play some old time songs We got a lap-trap on the off-beat And a bass drum on the on Stars over 45, we're gonna
it's all about to end But before I go, say hello to my little friend But I gots to make it right, reconcile with my mother Try to explain to my son, tell
the ghost, too confident to be cocky to keep it real We veto that phony shit and block it like a bill Whether Bobby by the pound, or Whitney by the ki We
The lemmings push their pens and rush In hoards of crashing stupor Towards the farms of Babylon To scramble mother nature Where unrelenting drudgery
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