I'm looking for salvation A place where I can find peace, I don't know it's ever done to you. So many complications, everyday is something. I'm so confused
: (Gram Parsons/Chris Ethridge) She ... She came from the land of the cotton A land that was nearly forgotten By everyone And she ... She worked and
and throw it in they grill Send a finger to your moms and let her know that it's real Nigga we in the field like Chris Johnson It's 2010, how the fuck
Ah and my tribeca loft with my high brow art And my high yellow broad Ah and my dark skin sis and my best white mate Say what's up to to chris, Ah, hows
somethin' Chris Rock said Don't send no more candles Whatever you do Then Willie stopped singin' And the prairie wind blew The grain kept rollin' on For miles and miles The fields
: (feat. Chris Brown & The Game) Lace the nations don't have it A hatred addict I need faces mad with frowns When I'm around Or I'm wasting the fabric
here for all my homies Separating the true breeds My friends and my family Had the vision when the bounds now it's blowing up Props to the Field Dog With
: (Chris Gantry/Rhett Akins) There's an old dirt road off of 33 Lord it's been so long since it's seen me But I've put many a mile across it's back
: (Alan White/Tony Kaye/Trevor Rabin/Jon Anderson/Chris Squire) We hit the blue fields In the blue sedan we didn't get much further Just as the sun
wont mix my records now I need to talk to jimmy I'm falling back in my old ways I'm riding with my semi Who's calling me its Chris he's on the other line
's all Uh, in my TriBeCa loft With my high brown ah and my high yellow broad Uh and my dark skinned sis In my best white mink, say what's up to Chris
put it down yes Now chris rock were you at I heard you say some shit about some blacks Nigga, this been your ass back Come see the real deal Stay in the fields
something Chris Rock said Don't send no more candles No matter what you do Then Willie stopped singing And the prairie wind blew The green kept rolling on For miles and miles Fields
" Bein' good is good, that'll get you Drew Gooden But me, I want Jordan numbers, LeBron footin' Can't guard me, Vince Lombardi, John Wooden Garbage? Hardly, you niggas silly like Chris
mouth and throw it in they grill Send a finger to your moms and let her know that this real Nigga, we in the field like Chris Johnson It's 2010 how
set and now go A worldwide show Now here's the intro The torch is lit and now the gun is pointed Prepare for the world's best to be anointed On the field
t want anything [CHRIS] Hey, what's wrong with you? [KIM] I've not done this before [CHRIS] That can't be true! [KIM] Why would I lie? [CHRIS
people who, march in the streets, and struggle for peace For hood niggaz, born rugged, never rocking Versace Eddie Ramierez's cousin George, and my old friend Sashi Chris
