Daddy sits on a? front porch swinging Looking out on a vacant field Used to be filled with burley t'bacca Now he knows it never will My brother's found
have breath in it, give praise To all my homies in the struggle, get paid [Killah Priest] When will they profit? The game is where I loose my soul How
my project window Oh, it makes me feel, so tired Yo, if this piano's the cake then my words are the candles Light it up, make a wish and them angels
Who is roasting her baby On the fire Yeah, babe, I'm on fire Well, the athlete with his hernia says it Picasso with his Guernica says it My wife with
It's at your own It's at your own It's at your own It's at your own risk, sucker Yo, whassup? Yo, what's happenin?, what's happenin?? E-Swift, you cuttin
find me Beyond this thickened air, where my spirit is free I'm blasting off with a strum of my six string Six String Rocketeer Well, my getaway car is
my soul, yeah maybe I will Catch up with you in Robinsonville Sell my soul, maybe I will Maybe I will My neck hurts from throwin' it back so much My back is
bum [All without Mona] They had it comin' They had it comin' They had it comin' They had it comin' They had it comin' They had it comin' All along All
, where you goin' with that Flower in your hand? Hey punk, where you goin' with that Flower in your hand? Well, I'm goin' up to frisco to join a Psychedelic
did, Would it matter a bit? Not at all! Because it is writ: Our beige-blandish god Tends to certify it: "only the boring and bland shall survive
), bridgin' de conceptiumal gap between what you is, what you think you is, what we think you is, what you is gonna be, 'n also what yo' rubberized madonna
rompn' Sweat is poppin' Hips're rollin' Funk is droppin' Souls soulin' Heat is massin' Folks're swingin' Time is passin' Arms flingin' There's contagion Takin' over Swing is
so strangely? Taking her away from us, her soul included She might es well be gone with him, all the children are excluded. Loneliness is hell, I know so well
is barbed wire, each chord is a threat This blues guy I met that never had a hit Said, ?You don't gotta be loud, son, to be heavy as shit? Well, I'm
killin' Well now that's chillin' This is love it or hate it music But, at least we made it music And we didn't make it industry This is gon' be interesting
in the public, send your budget Well fuck it, I ain't budgin! Young did it to death, you gotta love it Record companies told me I couldn't cut it Now
as God's my witness, I was not at my post. Please monsieur there's no one there: and if there is, well then, it must be a ghost . . . MEG (looking up)
