bruised And if you get away from this one then, that'll be news I said [Chorus] [Aceyalone] Jack and Jill, and +Jill+ and +Scott+ Scotch and
and freaks Jokers and freaks Well, I like to hang with Tall Jess and Jump Steady Nate, The Mack and Violent J and Uncle Freddy Chunky mutha fucky and Scott
TWEEDLE DEE (Winfield Scott) « © '54 Progressive Music » Tweedle tweedle tweedle dee I'm as happy as can be Jimmy Crickets Jimmy Jack
WHAT IN THE WORLD'S COME OVER YOU Writer Jack Scott What in the world's come over you? Seems we never get along (ooh, ah, ah, ah) Ev'ry night I reminisce
WHAT IN THE WORLD?S COME OVER YOU Writer Jack Scott What in the world's come over you? Seems we never get along (ooh, ah, ah, ah) Ev'ry night I reminisce
Pubah, Steady B, Heavy D, Mouthburnin Craig G, Shy rap version, TRUE SCHOOL Rock Box, Run Dmc, true hip hop Before Biggie and 2pac got shot, there was Scott
up Jordan they found your body parked in the car I know you watching over your son from up above in the stars an ole shocking Scott I know you where
wave swirls You're wondering why there's no one about At least Captain Scott actually stood on the spot Where he planned to put up Union Jack And though
If I want to sit in and drink super tenants in the day I will No-one's going to fucking tell me Jack But can you rely on anyone in this world? No you
broke out as resoluted So fuck it she needed love and you provided false clout Stomping on the bottom man and I wish she just walked out Knew you was jacked
find that my rhyme style relaxes them And wonder if I fuck to the same rhyme style pattern It's autobahn pipe bomb glass fragment shatter To break new jacks
rental car from Hertz Call my niggas from the Three 6 Tell 'em 'bout the plan first Ooh, wee Can it be, another song we done made Fakin' on no damn jacks
can't rock 'n roll I never gave a damn, my juice gonna slam I'm at I.H.O.P. eatin some breakfast and some yams my partna Scott chillin at the mutha fuckin
your own eyelids I got my soldiers, everywhere they go, I win No stick moves, ain't no cap peelin' Where I come from real men don't catch feelings We don't rhyme about fake jacks
in case something happens so if you see the Zodiac tell him I want my shorty back yes the night stalker coming from behind the mind of Cincinnati Colonel Scott
', representin' my block I'm on that 59 South, ridin' with my trunk popped From that Homestead to that Spice Lane I'm on Scott in the turnin' lane I'
So travel lightly on the wing this time Leaving all your baggage behind As you wander through your vagabond stage And find yourself shovelling shit With a rusty jack
geared to the Jazz Messengers Horace Silver, Bill Evans to Terry Gibbs on the vibe Gary Burton and album archives Like Donald Byrd George Duke and Lee Morgan Shirley Scott