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Search results for 'with my life in your hands by connie scott' Page #9
Yee yee! We've found 265,325 lyrics and 199 artists matching with my life in your hands by connie scott.
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Huh? Huh? Huh? Ha! Young nigga jookin' on the back block (Back block) In the kitchen whippin' 'til my hands hurt (Hands hurt) Foreign door, push got
You gotta be ready in the land of the trill Cause if them jackers catch ya slipping lil' man it's for real Second thing dog When your hands
thinking upward in my cranium Heavy Metal in my veins it runs Liquid gold with cold uranium I can power up a UFO and I won't lose control I hold my weight in
do it in style, Or take your ass on back down to 8 mile, Now my life is flashin before my eyes, And the bullets is flyin across the skies, They got my
Life is full of glee with someone to saw, someone to see Life's a happy song when there's someone by my side to sing along I've got everything that I
how much attention you pay You better be ready to die, in this game I thought I told y'all I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now And I've
all eloquent, leather shit in my front yard Tv by my swimming pool, got it built like a sports bar Chevelle with a new motor, got the bitch like
more, we gettin' to it (ha) Can't put it in the hands of fate, this how we do it (ha) Now let me go and get with all of my people, you know I have
more, we gettin' to it (ha) Can't put it in the hands of fate, this how we do it (ha) Now let me go and get with all of my people, you know I have
Holes wit' tampons, i'm serious I've been plugged in like a landline And I throw up my hands you Just throwin' up hand signs When the hand 9 by the Jimmy
worship with Allah So plot against me, all of you, and give me no respite I put my trust in Allah, my Lord and your Lord There is not a moving living
drawing doodles You was on google, learning gang signs I be, 5-40, let that bang Got that flag in my pocket, i let it hang Your bitch down in front of me,
show, tryna grab a bitch off the runway I ain't even pack no clothes, nothin' but rubbers in my suitcase Laid her on the mic, menage with my model
written in my file Said you loved me but it is what it is in this life You ain't ever gon get what you give I had to learn that the hard way as a troubling
Clicky Clang Clicky Clang The money goes into my piggy bank Clicky yo shout out Lloyd Banks This is New York Bitch I could ask you? Rap until your
Ralph Lauren, Lacoste, Lyle and Scott I'm nineteen with more grades than my Dad's got And your girl's still trying to watch. Well I guess my face
the real Is in the building With Jay and Hova niggas know What the deal is The deal is nigga the realest Young Scott the rock Rocking from the Phyllis Got my
don't clown, the got love for my sound They want to see a party go down With a cigarette burning past the filter, degrees In the club hot mic feeds,
turned to Scott Chose to jump off his mama porch leading the stampede of lost souls In the middle of their metamorphosis, not quite through with their
pouring T. Scott ain't never snoring Light my blunt, and take a puff, see the sun come up in the morning It's raining it's pouring T. Scott ain't never
the 'yes man' I'm in my polo Tee, Gucci sweat pants She on a Jubilee call me the X-man Pa-pa-pass me the dutch with cha left hand I got the whole club
discomfort in this area. This practice is easy and pleasant. It helps me enjoy life. Little by little, shift your attention to the area of your kidneys. Go
time that they finally get a taste of What we face everyday (everyday) The fear of walkin' round with the police in your way Now you scared of a couple
don't even come on You're far from home so leave it alone You creeping with the king of the throne You sleeping in a tee and a thong With your hair in
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