Fresh adidas squerk across the bathroom floor Out the back window I make a escape Don't even get a chance to grab my old school tape Mad with no music
the music play Sounding like an orchestra, like an orchestra, oh I wanna lay you down just right and make this song complete Get you wrapped up in my lyric sheet
the lower road You might clinch your fist You might fork your tongue As you curse or praise All the things you've done And the faders move And the music
[Hook: Bun B] I done listened to your music and watched your videos (eos) You niggas ain't trill (trill), you niggas is some hoes (hoes) You fakin on
? the bass The fiddle and guitar are removed from the case You know it?s Kenny O when it booms and shakes You know it?s our music by the movement it makes
's running for president. It's a shame what the game's became, But the truth is, There's really nobody to blame, But the music. Lets give it a minute,
NEED INSIDE MY HEART IT RAINS I CRAVE NO MORE TO SAY THIS WAY I`LL CHOOSE LIKE YOU THIS HEART I`LL CEASE LIKE YOU WHITE SHEETS AROUND ROSE IN OUR
Feel the music son, we got you programmed like a beat When I press snare, yo, guard your grill Press kick, you move your feet, you can?t compete I got
to sample your own bile Diced liver and stomach, so normally reviled Are on the sheets so lovingly compiled The beauty of a fibrillating heart Until
dissection, a foetid mate at best Relentlessly tugging at heart strings through a hole I tore in the chest [solo: "Rending a Broken Heart" by L.d
rack Medicinal movements decomposed Regurgitating oratorios obscene Forensic fugues and de-boned Mutilating the melody's method and means The crepitated coda dies in mid-refrain As the sheet-music
[music - Sean McGrath and Leon del Muerte] [lyrics - Sean McGrath and Ross Sewage] Latent images in solutions submerged A gallery of gore for posterity
You're hot as a desert, hell in a sheet Home's anywhere you lay your feet Your heart is full of Tumbleweed and brimstone Whisper in your whiskey late
another sucka duck MC out there) I can tell by how you write, you the type to run in a fight I hold mics while you hold spite like a broken hearted
Buck 65-Square 3 [intro] music to be murdered by it is mood music in a juggular vein and i hope you like it our record requires only the simplist of
(Mr. Gene Poole) Lovin' this sound comin out to yo system I spark to get yall off to a good start. Show me some heart, walk through my hood after dark