and that ass I get with (huh) As a matter of fact, I attack, hijack Set back, your career, like a quarterback That broke his back, my tongue is like a
t you watch yourself. Don't head into shit again. [Roxie Hart] - You're a liar, Fred. [Fred Casely] - Oh, yeah, so what? [Roxie Hart] You lied to
Dirty shoes shawty first you need to change your shoestrings All on my dick like a bitch with a g-string Sucker ass nigga like a nigga with a tongue
stopping Got no strings but I think with my ding a ling a ling Can?t sing can?t speak ting tong?s tong ting I?m popping and I?m locking Pulse stopping
Heart clogging Name dropping Life stopping Got no strings But I think with my dingalingaling Can't sing can't speak ting tong's tong ting I'm popping
me with a capo A six string with an f-hole, We made the strangest couple A laurel and hardy double, I learnt to play her favourite country songs With
i've got my gun to the face in a magazine i've got the world but you've got me on a string i never knew a touch could make me feel alive and then i
tongue tongue tongue My niggaz be talkin bout thongs -n- shit I wanna see ya face in between my hips Ya seen the black gold can bring a bitch Strings
, when she yawns Right palm and arm, the softest song sung to the farthest heights and nights when he's gone Nothing to offer thee right, like my life in this song
longing for the schoolyard . reaching for the scenes . reminded by the songs that will never disappear . random like the infants . outdated like the old
signin' wit Jigga I got rappers gettin' mad at me I got these new jack rappers tryna clap at me I got these corny wanna be diss song kings on the radio
signin wit Jigga I got rappers gettin mad at me I got these new jack rappers tryin to clap at me I got these corny wannabe, diss-song kings on the radio
m signin' wit Jigga I got rappers gettin' mad at me I got these new jack rappers tryna clap at me I got these corny wanna be diss song kings on the radio
I sang the song slowly As she stood in the shadows She stepped to the light As my silver strings spun She called with her eyes To the tune I's a-playin
I would rather do anything Than write this song for you And perpetuate this thing In my head, in my living room With the usual arsenal Of broken chords and rusty strings
guilty look on face and shirt that reads: I didn't do it! Is it on, is it beyond basic Does it ice grill you or is every song faceless? Does it have
We got another pub anthem This song right here, is about makin out with somebody And never talkin to them again (laughter) And basically, how jealousy
his throne, puts his hand down his robe, the torture of inverse and silk screen and harry, and set the tongue squealing the reverse and inverse Right