Search results for 'to each his own by johnny hartman' Page #22

of my shoes
They too timid to even make it a single minute
I was molded by the pain
Shit, I'm Bane, I was raised in it

You and me are not the same
I was

got my own picture, gotta paint
At the school, being cool, them the ones really fake
Everything they say bull, but I don’t wanna hate
If I mess up shit,

to speak on it
She said boy Imma do both
And there ain't shit no one can do about it
To each his own
I'm just saying there's a part of you that don't need

bmm boo
Bmm bmm bmm bmm

Go through your whole life searching for something new
Not knowing the kingdom inside of you
Each day you rise just to face

to roll

I got the strap by the seam of my clothes 

Show a lil nigga this cutta on me not even his beef but his mans get expose

Putting down pressure you

busy talkin’ church to recognize
her daughter had red lines across her arms.
too consumed by her own need to feel worthwhile,
she made her daughter feel

he had never found one more fascinating than his own
I cannot sleep I cannot sleep
He grew more and more attracted by his own image
I need you I need

And the times we decided to run our life our own way
Are a strike to the Lord on the road to Cavalry
Each time you resist, you're taking Christ by the wrist
Stop

in his own disguise
flying fingers and a monkey on his back
right before your eyes
praise from the critics hype in the press
his image is perfect but

(Poem Intro)
I open my lungs to catch wind of his scent
It carries his essence through the room in a plume of divinity
He be God King (yes)
Still

by your walk
His body lined up in chalk
I'm Running shit I'm the boss
Wrist in the pot
Yea hip in the pot
That little Bitch is a thot
She just might

elements of his DNA chain are the same as ours
They're simply more often tightly packed with infinite genetic knowledge
Almost like this being was engineered

was a Farmer, Blacksmith, Carpenter, Clock Maker/Repairer, and a great church worker at the Russell Union Church. He built his own house and was very

That Good

Wiz Khalifa

Dreams

2012

his own
Snoop and Wiz the new Cheech and Chong
We up in smoke, making street schemes
Smoking sticky green, having sweet dreams
Break it down, put it in

the course

He said, I'd really like to study love
Taking both her hands between his own
He heard the singing of the mourning dove
And felt his soul was

Views and opinions in this upcoming song are solely that of my own perspective
And meant for entertainment purposes only
Although they do adapt

are
Let me put their names on record
That each one play you his own peculiar noise
Come and meet the boys

And let's start at the bottom with frank

the secrets
Of his vision of his very soul.
Is it the painter or the picture
Hanging in the gallery?
Or is it but a still life
Of his own interpretation

I Remember Clifford

The Manhattan Transfer

Vocalese

1985

And the ever-present sound
That abounds in his praise
Echos throughout the universe
For endless spans of time uncountable
By days
The pretty little piquant passages

lightly begins to rain screams of terror 
Are hidden by the passing trains 
This can't be little Shane, his uncle cried 
As he drops to his nephew's

Going Out in Style

Dropkick Murphys

Going Out in Style

2011

Acquaintances, relatives, the girls who never cared 
You'll have a host of rowdy hooligans in a big line out the door 
Side by side with Sister Barbara, Chief

In Hope

Boy Sets Fire

The Day the Sun Went Out

1997

day to his own fate until I am needed no more for his comfort or his joy 
In hope there's an answer 
And in hope I cry 
But I am beaten still

One day lying on the grass
Watching red-tailed hawks fly by
Feeling that his life would pass
Without him ever knowing why
His mind grew lost in

to you truly by your own words and your doing
You'll be your own witness against yourself and your ability to argue will be driven speechlessly from your