Chorus:. . A yo they watching my car like I owe them Aki, Trying to holler at the kid, but I dont know them papi,. Ra, Rap stars cant stand the paparazzi,.
WHEN THE SUN SHINES ON THE MOUNTAINS. AND THE NIGHT IS ON THE RUN. IT'S A NEW DAY. IT'S A NEW WAY. AND I FLY UP TO THE SUN. . I CAN FEEL THE MORNING SUNLIGHT.
Who be first to catch this Beat Down?. My rap pages be The Source. Ego trip remain victory and no loss. Rap sheet show you details of wars in streets.
When I hold a mic in my hand, it's devotion. Then I began flowing in a smooth steady motion. Cause I'mcontended to know that I've invented. Poetry which has been highly complimented.
Yo, this is the Gka-gka-genius. And I got the brotha Prince Rakeem on the side. You know we got the sess bones in the house. And, yo, God I'ma pass you the bone.
You ever see someone who roll with Mayweather, rhyme like Ricky Hatton. Smash whatever you throw, 1000 is what I'm battin'. Got a few hooks but no jabs.
Pussycats & Pussy Riot. *. We need pussycats - we need pussycats. strong and independent with. the glimpse in their eyes that tells. about courage. . our world needs pussycats.
People are People. . Refr: /: People are people. wherever I see them. people are people. wherever I meet them. yellow is yellow. red is red. brown is brown.
Paparazzi. *. Papa - papa. papa-papa papa-papa. paparazzi. give me more scandals. to suck on. . papa - papa. papa-papa papa-papa. paparazzi. give me more gossip.
[Spoken]. Hold your breath. Make a wish. Count to three. . [Sung]. Come with me. And you'll be. In a world of. Pure imagination. Take a look. And you'll see.
Clock starts ticking away. Count the minutes you are in it till judgment day. Life spent hard on the run. Never staying. Never paying for what you've done.
Clock starts ticking away. Count the minutes you are in it till judgment day. Life spent hard on the run. Never staying. Never paying for what you've done.
Subjected nevermore, to the whims of the dying. Steal their flesh, from the pool of the lying. Injected more, erythematous moisture. Beyond high, by the chosen kind.
(This whole tune is full of whispering and background vocals...If you can make. them out, and they're right...I may just send you a small cash reward.).
Ad mala patrata haec sunt theatra parata.. Trick mortis, trick mortis, sick mortis. Ask me; you question me.. Why must our pleasure always be in restraint?.
The last lot make a few mistakes. They didn't die young, they got big waists. We got let down at the back of Earls Court. We swore that night, we'd never get caught.
A sixteen hundred, packed with angry young men. Came burning down main street. I touched the Epiphone that hung on my hip. It knew the sound of my heartbeat.
But here comes the musical thing keep. You rockin' an swing so all you gotta do is keep. On coming down adn don't be no clown as I would. Tell you 'bout the musical thing that we love to call Punk.
Pants on the Ground. Pants on the Ground. . Lookin' like a fool. With your pants on the Ground. With the gold in your mouth. Hat turned sideways. Pants hit the ground.
1 - 2 - A - B - C - D. Verseucht mir meinen Garten mit Schwefeldioxyd,. vernebelt mir die Sinne, bis man nichts mehr sieht,. baut mir durch die Kche noch ne Autobahn,.