Texty:
Little Boots Ghost

full of dreams and nothing's as it seems In the black air under the trees Do you even know that I'm here? I might as well be a ghost It's true, you

is full of dreams and nothing's as it seems In the black air under the trees Do you even know that I'm here? I might as well be a ghost It's true, you

you That's what I'm having a de ja vu, Lord when I lay down down to sleep I pray for the Lord and the Holy Ghost bless my soul to keep And if I should

I don't do the shellfish, I'ma just eat pasta Turkey, Italian, sausage, chopped up kielbasa Doing hits from home like an elite mobster Love my onions diced up real little

ain't edible Fuck with my life, I'm stressin your death Cut his guts out, wrap his intestines around his neck You wanna gun who (*laughing*), what? Shit it's the ghost

stayed When they rode with villa into torreon Then the padre will recite the prayers of old In the little church of this side of town I will wear new boots

Dropping Names (Take PCP) He thrusts his fists against the post and still insists he sees a ghost He thrusts his fists against the post and still insists he sees a ghost

here Yeah yeah yeah, I'm gonna sex this up, yeah go like this here Check it out Verse 1: I'm beatin [BACKWARDS] against the [BACKWARDS] up out their boots

Dropping Names (Take PCP) He thrusts his fists against the post and still insists he sees a ghost He thrusts his fists against the post and still insists he sees a ghost