way We bring them every mother's day and put them on her grave Oh, mama liked the roses, mmm Mama liked the roses, mmm, oh, mama liked the roses, mmm
Translation: Presley, Elvis. Mama Liked The Roses.
to spray Like raa raa, Glenn Beck better duck like foie gras Make shots poke his face like Gaga But mama says forgive, so I give him that bar like a
See your mama and the candles and the tears and roses I see your daddy walk his daughter down the aisle And my knees start to tremble as I tell the preacher
the Lambo Sit back reminiscin' when I never had no dollas Pride is well, poor dear mama Stuck to the fight like a drained out boxer So I know what it feels like
ass phat as two basketballs Gucci fittin' to dunk her Pretty like Mariah Finer than Alicia Sexy just like Trina, dawg I bet she a keeper Turn me on like
oup steppin out the car its the Marvin blue valley shoes. On the grind tryna shine like summer time with three jobs only thing on yo mama mind ( MAMA
when Pusha talk it is the object then I drop it I rose gold ya, pink diamond ya, hah? Set it in a rhyme now The industry got pink eye, contagious, flows high demand Like
Way down upon Sycamore Slough White man sings the blues Selling roses of paper mache And flecks of starlight dew Swiped a bunch and threw them your way
Just like Jack the Ripper, just like Mojo Hand Just like Billy Sunday, in a shotgun ragtime band Just like New York City, just like Jericho Pace the halls
no Get down high, get down low Get your heels in tow We don't care what Mama don't allow here anymore Tiger tea, tiger gee, you my Tiger Rose Gently
The boy only wanting to give mother something And all of her roses had bloomed Looking at him as he came rushing in With him knowing her roses were doomed
rockin! We keep it rockin Now let me welcome everybody to the wild, wild west A state that's untouchable like Elliot Ness The track hits ya eardrum like
Mama doesn't care, Mama's lettin' loose Mama's got the stuff, Mama's lettin' go, Mama Mama's got the stuff, Mama's gotta move Mama's gotta go, Mama, Mama Mama
bubble bath You can put your feet up, feet up Don't you worry 'bout a thing The baby's at your mama's house Got a hundred candles and roses Baby, I
we rose far We let things coming up I suppose What drove us to dream and pack things in our clothes Tell that pops was a fiend and I know Told Mama I