[so for all y'all niggaz out there that be puffin shit When the music go on, y'all listen to this alright? ] Verse one: prince rakeem/ryzarector Let
Words and music by bob seger Went out in norfork hung on a short short Livin' with a bottle of wine To music, ladies and burned out babies I was tryin
pound beats Like kids with flat feet and crap beats walking down backstreets So much work went into this to line the notes of fact sheets Like black sheep
'll shoot you. If the people find out how they've been ripped off, and enslaved, they will revolt with the blood running in the sheets Yo, Ticket to
rack Medicinal movements decomposed Regurgitating oratorios obscene Forensic fugues and de-boned Mutilating the melody's method and means The crepitated coda dies in mid-refrain As the sheet-music
, the shit that you fall for Far more advanced than a rapper who's career You could only take a glance, couldn't make the transition From B-boy to C-note
I cannot sing it, duty or not! RAOUL: Christine ... Christine ... You don't have to ... they can't make you ... GIRY: Please, monsieur: another note
Right up in va-gana, dick still standin Hard like a mack test, mega mess I love it when you walk around showin ya breast Load music got us shinin, drinkin
to see Him spur the hymns to heaven From the sculptured lips of seraphim Whom fate then cruelly rent Wtih sleight-fingered strains of harmony Each note
I was not stoned professor, honestly, my grant has run out. But the only two vowels or sounds frequently repeated that I could make out were Voice 4, in music
I played connect the dots with your beauty marks And I ended up with picture perfect sheet music I read your musical notes with a composer's eyes And
is pronounced JAY-pan" Transcribed by Robin Hood These lyrics were transcribed from the specific recording mentioned above and do not necessarily correspond with lyrics from other recordings, sheet music
showed up like bounced checks Rubbin' their necks And the sky turned the color of Pepto-Bismol Yeah, and the parking lots growled My old sport coat full of promissory notes
showed up just like bounced checks, rubbin' their necks and the sky turned the color of Pepto-Bismol and the parking lots growled and my old sports coat full of promissory notes
of answers and says "help me go". And now I know something of how a piano must feel when it looks at the fireplace to see sheet music being used for
who tan, tan, tan . . ." PIANGI (still wrong) Those who tangle with Don Juan . . . CARLOTTA (to the OTHERS) His way is better. At least he make it sound like music
and I'm so fuckin gifted That you didn't even feel when the momentum shifted (Shoot back) I turned the pocket around And slowed it all the way DOWN, I'm a musical
