Letras:
Traffic Blind Man

Blind man Standing on the corner Crying out the blues And I don't need a dollar And don't give me a dime Until you bring back that little girl of mine

(Malone/Scott) Blind man Standing on the corner Crying out the blues And I don't need a dollar And don't give me a dime Until you bring back that little

shot you Don?t make dem spot you Unless you carry guns a lot too A pure tuff tings come at you When Trenchtown man stop laugh and block off traffic Den

goods. Line it on up, guarantee you get served. Lil' Chris, said run it, So I ran and told her. I'm a cash money young'n, Bird-man junior. Just a president

serpent cannot be denied." Our serpents love the whisky bars They love the romance of the crime But didn't I see a neon sign Fester on your hotel blind

heights plains peaks or valleys Entrances exits vestibules and alleys Winding roads that test the firm nerve Fortune or fatal behind the blind curve The

how I be droppin these mockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me Battle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits tremendous, ultra-violet shine blind

: chant your spirit free; rush to greet truth like a dart shake your bag o'bones shake your bag o'bones, that's not traffic roar -- that's a leopard

All just waiting to order There's some idiot in a Volvo With his brights on behind me I lean out the window and scream "Hey, what cha tryin? to do, blind