Lyrics:
lastin'
This little town is gettin' wild as hell
Check the penitentiaries and all the jails
If they could lock us all up that would be just fine
Got my
But I'm not asking for your forgiveness
I just wanna grow up and have children
I can fix your little heart, Bob The Builder
I can run up your pockets,
on 'em
Dope money with a band on it
Half gold, we got a hand on it
D-boys still ball the same
Just gotta little bit of glam on it
Yah
I got flames
Take 'em by the pound
Maybe I slap big, bot-tom 'round
But if not, sit tight
I just might hound you down
Things that make you go "M-m-m-mm"
Taste
This country has been surprised by the way the world looks now. They don't know if they want to be Matt Dillon or Bob Dylan. They don't know if they
and my
Arm blingin' with class
Those that always speculated
Are now beginning to ask are you a
(spender) if it's mines, what is it?
If it shines, what is
Pretty little Sally sat up by the tree trunk
White miniskirt with a Betty Boom bum
She had a ass like Deborah Cox, face like Lauryn
Waist like
to our little plan
And fuck the money
Just keep my little man?
(By your side)
And show 'em there's hope
And he gon' think he knows it's going
But
to sleep
Those wasted years
When I gave you every piece of me
But little by little I'm getting stronger
I'm gonna be unbreakable
Those wasted tears
fruit with a whole lot of tang
A little something called "Doing Our Own Dang"
Breaking the beat others wished they broke
Bass line so dope that you
mind be free
And by the way, welcome to the party
Uh uh excuse me Mr kid Rock
Can I do my thing?
Can I have a little something
To say right here? (Oh
isn't an insult and a deed that I could never be insulted by Him, adding a well placed
And accredited quotation by Tom Waits in French no less, much
Aynsley Dunbar (drums)
Jim Pons (bass, vocals, dialog)
Bob Harris (keyboards, vocals)
Don Preston (mini-moog)
What's a girl like you
Doin' in a place like
back and make noise)
My corpse is a RZA from a thriller or nine killa
Passin by Mumia is like trapped in the raw, nigga
(So who want to test those who
some love back to those that loved me
206 Court street and my second mom Tracy
Little Keesha and Cole
My mellow blow, and my homegirl Flo
Rock
Yeah, huh (hip hop, hip hop, hip hop)
Turn my mic up a little bit (hip hop)
Hit some of this Cali guido (hip hop)
Listen to some motherfuckin',
Ah-henry long henry long
Yea yea yea yea yea yea yea
Me steady on the things wey go make me shine
So many enemies wey wan make me cry
God cover me
Shurly a sign on the moon in the sky
Tame a racoon with my buddhist inside
End of sesion my tu-tor starts to cry
No espanol' stuck in this little mind'
Im
in the gutter and walk on by
Wake up, little Suzie, let's go for a drive
Cross the Trinity River, let's keep hope alive
Turn the radio on, don't
all I get back is faeces
- the Tom Hobbes in me hits the blunt like Fuck my species!
- Can't let things be, too stressed out
Can't concentrate enough
to understand
What I'm thinking
But I know if she could she would kill
Everybody that I hate, 'cause she loves me
'Cause I took care of her since
She was a little
we did
All the talk about the house, the cars
And the kids yo, I'm not sayin' those
Things didn't happen but
That was before I found out you was a slut
we did
All the talk about the house, the cars
And the kids yo, I'm not sayin' those
Things didn't happen but
That was before I found out you was a slut
you’re not making money don’t pout
Things will eventually work out
Gotta upload more than SoundCloud
I go by lil Kennedy
I don’t drink Hennessy
And I’m 15
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