Viajo sin rumbo fijo en mis botas viejas Cabos sueltos enlazan a mi cabeza Si pensabas ir al lugar donde los paganos van Pongalo junto, invitacion extrao
Uh huh, uh huh, Brooklyn, Vietnam What you, uh, yeah, uh, come on Oh no, big Shyne Po Back in the motherfuckin' heezy for sheezy Gimme a tech that don
Now she wants a butter & egg man From way out in the West She wants somebody who's workin' all day So she's got money when she wants to play Now pretty
Feel me a home to crawl inside of you And lay this heart unsure And I'm sick of your sores, ye-eah But I'll always stay sitting, Well I'll go... And
As for my single self, I had as life not be as live To be in awe of such a thing as I myself As for my own concern I had as think to think As keep on
He was young at heart, been through it all Seen all the changes, now it's time to move on If it wasn't for him it just wouldn't be the same He's not gone
He likes bread and butter He likes toast and jam That's what his baby feeds him And he's a lovin' man Well, I like bread and butter I like toast and
El pan con mantequilla vamos a bailar y siéntense en las sillas la fiesta va a empezar el pan con mermelada se tienen que aprender pues con estas
Written by dizzy gillespie and gil fuller Crab in my shoemouth Crab in my shoemouth Crab in my shoemouth Crab in my, crab in my, crab in my shoemouth
What is it that gives a pop record that special something, that extra touch that makes it a hit and lifts it to the dizzy heights of the top of the top
I got a gift of butter, now Good butter it was claimed to be I dont think it was from a cow And if it was, it cowed me A beard was growing on the stuff
Pull me from the toaster Straight into the roaster Fill my head with the stuff Brightest dreams are made of Bringing me down again Bringing me down again
1988 Senior Year, Garvey High Where all the guys were corny but the girls were mad fly Loungin with the Tipster, Coolin with Sha Scopin out the honeys
Deceivers, liars without soul Preachers without a holy goal Deceivers, liars without soul Preachers without a holy goal Traitors, lies build up their
1 uh niggah roll the weed up kick ya feet up turn the beat up put ya heat up blow your chopper i won't stop ya it's like a playboy that's proper pineapple
All I need is a lady With more than average size She's gotta be a bit crazy Won't take no compromise If she can fill a "D" cup It's good enough to keep
(eery solo) (gets heavy) gaaadhaaaa gadhaaaa gadhaaaa gawowowowowowowow weehaaaw weehaaaw (x2) gaiaiaiaiaiaiaiaiaiaaah gaaadhaaaa gaaadhaaaa gahaaaa
(They say he's a swordsman) Back to that fly shit (They say he's a swordsman) Silicone Valley good shit, right here, boy More money on this rhyme right
