Lyrics:
right on this flight
[Ms. Jade]
Hum on a flight? Nigga you 'fraid of heights
Ms. Jade have you whinin by the end of the night
Try and try and have
right on this flight
[Ms. Jade]
Hum on a flight? Nigga you 'fraid of heights
Ms. Jade have you whinin by the end of the night
Try and try and have
The evidence suggests
She has other interests
If it's her who's using him
He's exceptionally dim
Bitch! Dangerous Jade
We have allowed ourselves to slip
Yeah
Jade
Is in the shade
Drinking lemonade
At the parade
Yeah Jade
Is in the shade
Drinking lemonade
At the parade
Jade
You don't have to cry
It's
gates marked by wood surname signs
Line the sparsely housed wide set dead end streets
If you drive down to where the gravel gives way
To the orange dirt
Pink pussy call that hoe
The pink panther
Migo bitch I think her name
Was Samantha
She be bumping this song
You know this shit her anthem
Hit me up
who's using him
He's exceptionally dim bitch!
Dangerous jade!
We have allowed ourselvеs to slip
We have completеly lost our grip
We have declined
Mr. Carter (hello)
Tell me, where have you been? Where have you been? (You know)
'Cause they've been asking, they've been searching
They've been
you been, uh
I'll say it again, yeah
I haven't been shit, yeah
Haven't been a damn thing
Now it's time to spread my wings
My, my
Samantha
Where's yo
Holland is ruled by Midgets
Pope owns CBS
Subway cars have been equipped with bars
And they're cloning Rudolph Hess
Samantha Fox, gone frigid
raising em
By myself
Where the fuck was you
When I just needed a little help
Where the fuck was you when
(Uh)
I can't play
I can't play
Ummm no
I can't play
Tonight
So far off the deep end
So far off the deep end
Ordinary love
What did you have in mind
Look so good on yourself, you care if I stay by your side?
Holland is ruled by midgets
The Pope owns CBS
The subway cars have been equipped with bars
And they're cloning Rudolph Hess
Samantha Fox has gone
these
Streets where envy is fair
Where anything goes so you know you
Need to send me a prayer
To find a nigga real as me
Is rare as Indian hair
And yeah,
The one you always feared
Where you have to make out you've been interesting
For the past twenty-five years
And somewhere in the distance
In the middle
shirt, bastard
And I still have to get you back for that shit
And by the way them playboy rings
My mother stole from you
Well Nate finally got 'em back
Call me by my name
And in that time of prayer and waiting
Where doubt and reason dwell
A jury sat deliberating
All is lost
Or all is well
Home,
to have a little, now I have a lot
No matter where I go, I know where I came from (from the Bronx)
Don't be fooled by the rocks that I got
I'm still, I'm
laughin' at me
And snappin' at me with your shirt, bastard
And I still have to get you back for that shit
And by the way, them Playboy rings my mother
The sound of the waves on the embankment
A phone in my left pocket
I'm leaving, you're staying
A forgotten city by me
You're so beautiful, my dream hasn't
delicate.
The spaces have always been created by the gentle and caring,
To be later filled by bullies and egotists.
We can try to fill those spaces with
pro-black, doesn't mean I'm anti-white
Dear white people, I'm that change in Samantha White
Anti-white? You must be insane
That Logic's kinda Shady when
on their knees)
Wise Man 2: By what name are you calling him?
(Dramatic Holy music)
Mandy: Brian.
Three Wise Men:
We worship you, Oh,
Though it's nothing to do with guilt
I've been feeling
Like I've got some making up
To do to you
My darling Sisyphus
They said to go where my energy
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