can take all my well check's,Leave my health Cause i cant count all this money think i need some help, It's the franchise of zone 6 no jazze cheif i got
her, I don't judge her, but I could never love her 'Cause to her I'm just a rapper and since she'll have met another That's why me and Lil' Jazz 'bout
man is an angel The bum's as holy as the seraphim The madman is holy as you my soul are holy The typewriter is holy, the poem is holy The voice is holy
sky I lay prone in my catboat home Thinking of fine nappy Jackie and his jazz cat's horn Sliding in a tape of bird on verve when suddenly rang my phone "Hey butterfly", the voice
Relax) I handle streets, all type slick Just like a seven no lash She got moist ?cause I got?s the platinum voice Like syrup, for delf roamin', the New
'til the companies ripped it up Now the soul is set, we've been had like jazz If you down for change then they take your voice away And then they tell
it's tinted But honey got a lot of jazz, you gotta philly You gotta bag, then she went inside the Prada bag Blew two and she said it was choice, like my voice
to pump the butt Make up your mind, who you want to pump the butt No affections, condom style, I got no yeast Worldwide trunk funk, no jazz on the East
Street Parade 3:12 Trk 5 (Earl King Johnson) Earl King Arr. horns - Allen Toussaint (& tambourine) Engnr- Cosimo Matassa, Jazz City
and rhyme I want it to speak of your virtue Sing praise to your stature and poise I want it to capture your beauty The soul that's alive in your voice
beat I'm down with the Syndicate and they're down with me I'm also down with Divine, Bilal and Quincy D Terry B., DJ Lethal and my brother Kool Nick Kid Jazz
But even worse I can't stop calling her I love to hear that voice And honestly I'm left with no choice I've been playing too much guitar I've been listening to jazz
the post O.K. boys, we've got the go-ahead Open bomb bays Nancy, I swear I can hear jazz singers in the trees Jazz jazz singers in the trees Shiny projectiles
he never misses a beat I'm down with the Syndicate and they're down with me I'm also down with Divine, Bilal and Quincy D Terry B., DJ Lethal and my brother Kool Nick Kid Jazz
hate defences on red alert medical men and machines classical dancing and classical jazz the occupation now is better than dreams nameless faces never ending different voices
Oh hideous year we angels have lead We're dead, we're sick and hanging by thread Get real, get real You can't stop meaningful teenage cries From deep
Yeah, yeah [echo] [female voice - moaning] Yeah [echo] [Verse 1 - Timbaland] Now here I go, Timbaland will never bring the same old flow When the game
found love Oh I Drop rhymes Cop kind Stop time Oh I Drop rhymes Cop kind Stop time By verse two I wasn't even on the map 'Til all that jazz let all
