In the glare of a neon sign She laid her body down The damned walked in beside her And laid his money down He said don't try to scream now But I want
: In the glare of a neon sign She laid her body down A man walked in beside her And laid his money down He said don't try to scream now But I want this
the fact Said he'd put you with your mom, and you ain't fucked with that Then you lied about your pops, he ain't never bust no cap Like Father, Like Son
gotta bounce, nig! [The Game] I'm a man... and most of these n***as, they don't know how to be a man... I got a son... [Busta Rhymes] The fuck you talkin
Father, like Son But in the end I hope you only turn out better than me I hope you know I love you young'n, like Father, like Son My little man, your
how you fin to get paid off Kray' Thought you had a bone Bitch got shit all wrong, a y'all know I was suspicious from the front door, (front door) Wasn
praisin' the lord for sho) [Verse 2:] I know what they do, I know where they go I'm breakin' it down it's looking like snow Heavenly father you gave
Stuntin Like My Daddy Stuntin Like My Daddy, I Be Stuntin Like My Daddy [Ontro: Lil Wayne & Birdman] Crazyyyyyyyyyy,Like Fatha,Like Son,Hell Yeaaaa,
crying? [Chorus] I feel like crying Cause I see my father falling down I feel like crying (heyyaheyyaheyyahey) Cause I see my father falling down Tears
give up Couldn't die down the expectations they thought we'd live up It was everything, most parents hate it Niggas with dreams, wearing bling, screaming that they made it New York rapper said 'son
We don't do what we supposed to So I say Familay-iiieee!!! Yeah, Family Familay-iiieee!!! (Yeah) [Verse 3:] Check this out I wanna break the music down
In the glare of a neon sign, she laid her body down The damned walked in beside her and he laid his money down He said don't try to scream now but I want
Get strong-armed for baggage, it's tragic, some Vietnam shit Flat-lining all you cats up in a long wiz Out-of-towners, proper heavenly father, you know
Down from under, rose and fled to grow in hunger, now it's cold in summer To slow your slumbers, behold a number, 600, 6 and 3 score The same as he saw
Heeeeey What's happenin, y'all? This is Tyrone Chillinfoot down with the funky Tung Twista, baby [number] inches of straight stupid, straight ignorant
would give up Couldn't die down the expectations they thought we'd live up It was everything, most parents hate it Niggas with dreams, wearing bling, screaming that they made it New York rapper said 'son
