we drink this world away Like you I'm left alone to sit and think all day I always thought I'd turn out this way I'll never burn away Don't leave me hanging on
to wake it up, I'm on your line like Vonage I'm a real one, Ma! Get rid of that clown, Get with a factor Patna don't count, He a lame he don't matter
sign And you say to yourself just what am I doin' On this road I'm walkin', on this trail I'm turnin' On this curve I'm hanging On this pathway I'm strolling
to beg He's got 9 brothers and sisters, they're brought up on their knees It's hard to run when a coat hanger beats you on the things Pedro dreams of
you drink, do you smoke? I could tell by your purse and your shoes you ain't broke Hang with me, the first thing you do is get stuck Take you somewhere, later on
: Daddy's in the hallway Hanging pictures on the wall Mama's in the kitchen Making casseroles for all My brother came home yesterday From somewhere far
I wish I lived in the Golden Age, giving it up on the Broadway stage. Hang with the rats and smoke cigars, have a break with Frank and count the stars
see it Spinnin on a 45 I've come to the conclusion Clear the confusion My point is to rock Dis funky joint Dont you know I got tangled In the star
I say hell no universal lingo drop dead On a single play it and you'll find I got more flavour Then a pringle fresh pair of sneaks Jean hanging from my
have to rearrange it for, an easier flow on And this rhyme I can start the show on After you, I'm ready to go on Damage, and properly manage house arenas
nine short hair big booty Looking like the leading lady starring in a movie Fly crib, Mercedes Benz She loves niggas like me and my shady friends And when we hang out, don't count
So rough hanging tough in the wild wild west With his gansta waves and gangsta hoods He made friends with dealers and crooks And when the party was on
to stay up on your ESPN If you're mind is on sex, you must got ESP then Had a crush on way back, I wasn't VIP then But I was plottin on you I really wished
Bankhead you can't flex on me Westside bitch I'm in the club, I got that TEC on me Extra deep, TECs on me, swinging nothing less on me Spending twenty
got a bedroom What else count money and give a nigga head room So when you hear the leg boom, bitch, you better get somewhere Somebody gettin' hit somewhere But on the west start
changed transport airbrush, outside speakers on Valentino pu**y huggers high heel sneakers on my feet done, nails too all on the front porch you cooking in some Vicki's ass hanging
a few seconds away from switching To the redundancy sequencer T minus 27 seconds We have gone for redundance sequencer start T minus 20 seconds and counting