country, a new kind of suit She's gone country, here she comes Well the folk scene is dead But he's holding out in the village He's been writing songs
here to team number 2 Twiztid are you ready? Man fuck you we ready Do you have a song selected? Yeah we got a song What you wanna go with Man it don'
they know I'm from the ghetto and that's fo sho' (I'm from the ghetto) Yeah, that's what got me here The chucks, the khaki suits, all the swap meet years
know I'm from the ghetto and thats fo sho' [The Game] Ayo Cali Walk with me Yeah thats what got me here The chucks the khaki suits All the swap meet
Mark, bitch-made, punk-ass trick in a basket You got caught up in the mix It's the nigga ya love to hate with a new song So what really goes on Nothin
, Blacks and whites all turn to grey. Justice waits up the Dublin road Between the alley and the old-folks home In innocence personified The guilty all wear suits
Three traditional versions of the song from Murder Ballads. Nick's version is also available. Further details (and the actual book Nick edited from) are
Alright man, y'all win I won't say it, at least for this song, hey I said they lookin' for the realest, well, I'm real as it get Rap to the nigga dealin
not screamin at ya, I'm just askin you a question. Y'all givin' me a clap. A yes is fine (laughing) ok? (voice from audience a??I love that songa??)
What it is folk? This right here is the 16-year-old phenom Chris Breezy Me myself I'm the 23-year-old CEO, who? Young Carter, harder than them other
Well, I left my happy home To see what I could find out I left my folk and friends With the aim to clear my mind out Well, I hit the rowdy road And many
's wrong to want more than a folk song I'm wrong to want more than a folk song I'm wrong to want more than a folk song Underneath the shaker knit he's
jumpin' And T is on the beat box And after this song he'll rock the locks Hotel security ain't troublin' us none They partyin' with us, no badge and no gun Grown folks
I ain't rich and I ain't famous But there's folks out there that come and see the band And at times it seems Nashville won't claim us So we just keep
Up" stopped soarin, there's a few mother fuckers stopped callin See I remember shit spread like cancer I would call folks said, folk ain't answer A few
the benzes often milky Cuban link, a lotta moet to drink Cash spent as fast as you blink And all you hear is (do-si-do-do) None of these folks are livin
in to say that new song by Phats, Kurupt, the R.O.C.- it's off the hook baby. Keep banging it [Radio DJ] WBALLS, WBALLS, WBALLS What more can we have here folks
She'll get hot for you When they pass that basket Folk contribute to You put in for Mama She'll put out for you The folks atop the ladder Are the ones