round midnight, midnight I do pretty well till after sundown Supper time I'm feelin' sad But it really gets bad round midnight Memories always start round
midnight lover, lover Hold that lady tighter Shoot that bullet through her My heart beats just like a cherry soda In the summer Go, go, go, don't be difficult about
right area code And the number that I need My rider left upon the Midnight Flyer Singing like a summer breeze I think she's somewhere down south Down about
a bottle of red wine, ready to pour Dressed in long black satin, laced to the floor So I went in, then we sat down start kissing, caressing Told me about
Last Saturday night, I couldn't find my fight Sippin' whiskey in the midnight shade Vandalized as I didn't have no time Up the river and round the road
Well I was rollin' wheels and shiftin' gears 'Round that Jersey turnpike When Barney stopped me with his gun Ten minutes after midnight Said sir you broke
of livin' and lovin' under the gun Oh, it was paradise from nine to one Paradise from nine to one We'd tear ourselves away 'round about midnight Steal
long Baby doll, I'm sad and blue Glossy wings will carry you Well, midnight sun will never shine, these ravings of a fool You're thinking all about
Beotch Talk about these hoes Big I got a bitch that suck my dick 'til I nut Spit it on my gut and slurp that shit back up Ain't that a slut she even
this? You want this? Can you handle this? Well, come here then Early in the mornin' (You want this?) Late in the evenin' (You want this?) Just about around midnight
this morning Payin' much too bad So I guess I'll dream about you, baby And forget about where I am And forget about who I am I'll forget about what I
1, 2, yeah Yeah, niggas don't know about Fatback With the different color records they had back in the days You know what I mean, the belt driven turntables
Will conduct the executions behind prison walls The 3 prisoners are set to be executed by 3 separate methods Electric chair, hanging, and firing squad Midnight
The Cremation of Sam McGee The Cremation of Sam McGee (Robert W. Service) There are strange things done 'neath the midnight sun by the men who moil
shovel too and take my hammer It'll do anything you tell it to" John Henry's mammy had about a dozen babies John Henry's pappy broke jail about a dozen
pump and bout' to jack a punk And when that siccness hits I'm like a new stage Watch my back, hit the dank, load the gat, make the grave Twelve midnight
and bout' to jack a punk And when that siccness hits I'm like a new stage Watch my back, hit the dank, load the gat, make the grave Twelve midnight,
