, Joe Smith, hit from Pittsburgh The right player, even if I choose odds Let me shuffle jackpots, women pick the cards Your hydraulic butt, bounce like a six
cash and your jewelry is what I expect MCA was with it and he's my ace So I grabbed the piano player and I punched him in the face The piano player'
're here but I ain't sayin' nothin' Aiyyo baby I know you don't love me I know why you're here but I ain't sayin' nothin' Six minutes, six minutes Six minutes, six
dance class cause I got lazy, soccer cause I grew , and piano cause my teac Her, mrs. davies, got mad at me and called me a stupid girl and banged my hands
't perform a sentence you're worthless Put your hands up in the back, if you heard this Yo hipster throw a scratch To cover my phsyical you need six feet
Got a hundred different hustles all I do is choose one I was born wit it. Verse 1 [Playalitical] Moma gave birth to a thug A manic depressant on the mic spittin blood One hand
six Height five six, jeans five six, benz green five and six keep me five or sixed We know dice hit want cream fold, for two green five six seelo and
blankets on the way... [Mama Morton] Lights out, ladies. [Liz] Pop. [Annie] Six. [June] Squish. [Hunyak] Uh-Uh. [Velma] Cicero. [Mona] Lipschitz! [Announcer] And now, the six
Call me the piano man Call me the piano man Call me the piano man Call me the piano man Fresh out the rim shot, my wheels tick-tock My steel six shot
was playing the piano And his fingers were agile and bold A Tchaikovsky piano concerto Like water breaking over a dam A river of ecstasy flowed through his hands
five and six Height five six, jeans five six, benz green five and six keep me five or sixed We know dice hit want cream fold, for two green five six seelo
I know he expects What do you reckon? A hand on the shoulder An avuncular wink Sips his lemon drink Spits out the pips Hands on hips Licks his lips
I Can Never Get Enough Of Them Twenty-Six Inches Got The Lowes Raising Up, Yup! Mama I Can Hook It So You Need To Fix It Up, Yup! Rockin' My Piano How
just too bad it's your last Couple bundles of D, and 200 cash that sat you in the grass I watch the teams line up, shake hands, guess the game's over
(feat. Young Buck) [50 Cent:] I'm a work of art A ghetto version of Mozart Yeah... haha [Chorus: 50 Cent] I move the keys, they call me the piano man
your jewelry is what I expect" M.C.A. was with it and he's my ace So I grabbed the piano player and I punched him in the face The piano player's out -
the hand that hold the tottering scoop, Base bicycle braid and beer, God d-d-d-damn, you're prostrate in fear. He's gonna win the race With his six-
