Lyrics:
Piano Little Bird

culture, it's not a code of La Costra Nostra to roast ya I get a little closer Rock you to sleep like I got these little bitches, come over Hoping you

the edge, got the ledge hangin' out of the window Bird chest witcha winderous fearaf? Around you'll be hemps meat inside of a meal sack Puny little bucks

little worm? Kermit: No, no, no, worms are gooey. Don: Slither, slither little snake? Kermit: Naa, I don't like snakes. Don: What else is there, horses? Fishes? Birds

In the strange land of my dreams And I'm practicing my likeness Of St. Francis of Assisi For if I hold my hand outstretched A little bird comes to me

E bird o' new jersey, muthafucker! dat kin git you five to life in dis vicinity! if you wants a little frennly advice, boy, I'd be growin' my ass up

going to play your god damn games I walk down the street in the morning and blue birds are singing in the old oak tree Yeah I sing a little song for the people Little

But I ain't wettin that I don't wanna send nobody back, violently, fakin that Promise you, got somethin Lord that'll honor you Blow your little head off

your slippin like i'm throwin a banana peel on the ground and you can kneel to the man of steel as I leap to the sky with a bird's eye view and you must

here in the strange land of my dreams Now I'm practicing my likeness of St. Francis of Assisi For if I hold my hand outstretched A little bird comes to