The sun came up . . . The sun came up . . . and we left home. you packed your bags. said your goodbyes. we hit the road. no radio. no radio. just one
away you see it you see it the branches were naked and wet the deer in the front yard was eating my trash long-legged and cleared-eyed and livin' on
for the cameras. We held the pose + turned on cue. There were conditions of surrender. I laid my arms down on you. Waiting on a train, It's too late
Old Sasha was there already With his bag of tricks You're a sweet small shivering body With nothing left And I begged him to steal just one more life
we run in circles long distance we can't get lost in town like this with all the same stores everywhere in the same squares the light pollution fills
to get the package, got there it was gone Hold on say word, you got to be jokin' Don't worry about it dun, I'm on the next thing smokin' Hit Bristal up on
t a Lunatic, then what do ya call that If my pockets ain't obese, then what do ya call fat I wasn't born on purpose, I was unpurposely born I'm the result
somewhere sittin' on the stoop huh Sippin' on the **** plottin' to **** me later huh When will a hater learn I'm too great on a song I **** on the corner
about that Any more suggestions? You in the back, yeah you You should rap more on beat, you should rap more street And never ever get your mack on please
know, because there's all this social doctrine that says, you know, that the infinite God, with all this expression, who created every single one of us, absolutely different, on purpose
Dirty and low with the same pair of pants on Tables I dance on and benches at bed time Way passed the deadline and waiting for the world's end I just
eighty, it's all gravy on the phone gettin' throat From the padro [unverified] to that hydro From that sticky to that icky Dark tinted windows on my
it Let's me know that I made it I wouldn't have it no other way I wouldn't trade it for the world Only lets me know that I'm loved By so many other
niggas did Give them a life sentence fo' some shit that wasn't big 'Fore they get granted they appeal, they gotta do ten Shoe gotta be on the other
chrome Where las vegas seeks the desert In an old broken down casino There the gambler slapped his money down Dirty dollars one hundred or more Placed his last bet on
