a escape Don't even get a chance to grab my old school tape Mad with no music but happy 'cause I'm free And the streets to a player is the place to
a escape Don't even get a chance to grab my old school tape Mad with no music but happy 'cause I'm free And the streets to a player is the place to be
mist is in the air Why must God punish me this way? Happiness is hard to come by but I've had my fair share The satin sheets, the lemon peels, the minor
bumbling buffoons are baffled in their journey Through the music business Each sonnet is more ridiculous than the last Their strides towards musical success
thang right there girl in your seat Feel the heat, count this page amongst your whitest sheets Comfort in my every word slide under countless sheep Hail Mary, Mother of God
in me, always with me Tiny dancer in my hand Jesus freaks out in the street Handin' tickets out for God Turnin' back, she just laughs The boulevard is
in me, always with me Tiny dancer in my hand Jesus freaks, out in the street Handin' tickets out for God Turnin' back she just laughs The Boulevard is
, silence equals death, science versus life, until there's only giant people left. this is for the losers, this is for canadians, this is for my sister, this is
music! GIRY: Signora - would you speak that way in the presence of the composer? CARLOTTA: The composer is not here. And if he were here, I would
me, always with me, tiny dancer in my hand Jesus freaks out in the street Handing tickets out for God Turning back she just laughs The boulevard is
God that she may lie For ever with unopened eye, While the pale sheeted ghosts go by! My love, she sleeps! Oh, may her sleep As it is lasting, so be
Rub your ass all up on it, 'cause you know that I want it God, gave you beauty and you love to flaunt it Life is a song, you were born to perform it
of melancholy. I pray to God that she may lie forever with unopened eye while the dim, sheeted ghosts go by. My love, she sleeps.
on the set, steppin' with the swag Clothes got a dro odor so you know I blow bats Fresher than a motherfucker, pockets got stacks Hoes lookin' over here
I Know [Controversy Music, ASCAP - 1988] ------ Rain is wet, and sugar is sweet Clap your hands, and stomp your feet Everybody, everybody knows When