I've got scars to prove it i've been roaming on Sainte-Catherine street i can show you my enemies they're out there selling shit to kids check this shit
[Music by Dee Harrington and Richard Lynch] [Words by Richard Lynch and John Lynch] Out on the street No where to go Losing my mind Losing my soul A
: I've got scars to prove it i've been roaming on Sainte-Catherine street i can show you my enemies they're out there selling shit to kids check this
the P cause perfect is Godly Black Wall Street, the perfect family, The Cosby All I need is a perfect bitch How's B, I passed the baton on Solange I'm
P cause perfect is Godly Black Wall Street, the perfect family, The Cosby All I need is a perfect bitch How's B, I passed the baton on Solange I'm sure
baby, why so jaded? Have the boys all grown up and their beauty faded? Billy, what a saint they've made you, just like Mary down in Mexico on All Souls
back home to you, head north on San Marco Avenue. White crosses on the church lawn, I want to smash them all. I want to smash them all. Eaves-dropping in on
pas le taxi et les restos sur mes abattement Sans danger appararent comme un poseur d'bombes si on pisse ensemble on sera pas sur la meme longueur d'ondes On
super eight He rides `er low on the hip, on the side he's got Bound For Glory in red, white and blue flash paint He leans on the hood telling racing stories
beatin' faster as you struggle to your feet Then you're outa that hole and back up on the street And them South Side sisters sure look pretty The cripple on