He never made it through a day of school The only thing he studied was you He knows your body better than you do Maybe I'm your Mr. Right Baby, maybe
Übersetzung: Eine Rakete zum Mond. Mr. Right.
jewelers To the Good Life, we GOOD music [Big Sean:] Man, I wake up to a wet dream Every day's a Friday and every nights a sex scene Every week is fashion
oochie walla walla Swallow a couple shots of Jag and make a dolla Lil' mama in the crib with a poke to complete your scalla Talk about an example of a
s some more Come Mr. DJ won't you turn the music up Hey Mr. Please Mr. DJ Tell me if you hear me Turn the music up (Hey Mr) Hey Mr, Please Mr.DJ Tell
G's Catch a breeze When I ride by high Sittin' on Tonas Tearing up spots And blocks in my hood ain't got no corners Cause we done chipped 'em all off a proper piece bustin' rocks
It's the half and half hypothesis the 50, 50 theory Eerie as it may seem, check your balance beam Now check your Balance Beamer with a feather and a rock
Yeah, L.O.D. Keith Murray, Def Squad Mr., Mr., Mr., Mr. Smith You wanna hit? Uhh, gimme an hour plus a pen and a pad Yo, I'm here to make a dollar out
girls in 1 cup Weezy Baby A.K.A bring the money homee Pull out a A-K nd pop yuh in yah funny bone Laugh now die later motha Fucker Yuh a bitch like Zada
a worm lunar mission A worm really needs the right stuff Like a powerful rocket ignition Or some timely assistance from Snuff Slimey to the moon He wants
wantin' some more watts Come Mr. DJ, won't you turn the music up? Hey Mr. Please Mr. DJ Tell me if you hear me Turn the music up Hey Mr. Please Mr.
the police scanners By any means I'm a get these papers Ride with a nigga or catch these vapours Smooth melodic, cool water with butters on Got beef with a
is still here and I'm still hot Wow, I need a moment y'all See I almost felt a tear drop When was the last time you heard a real anthem? Nas, the millionaire
right under midnite moon consume Exceed the limit, forget it the man don't wanna hear it He says, "Let's go" but I'm late I gotta rock a show, I'm gone
's dressed up in a suit, when he used to wear polos I wonder if there's a heaven for a gangsta, a killa, and a shoota I wish some nigga gunned john gotti
:] "With that program I bet some son of a bitch made a million dollars." With his neat feet And his clean fingernails With his wise but twinkling eyes He's a rock
