Un soir, tu trouveras des brouillons dans leur cachette Pour voir, tu sortiras les disques de leur pochette Notre histoire, tu la verras defiler dans
light to this paradise I'm making my mark this time Fill me in Make me whole again And then pour me out Pour me out Again and again you win
Übersetzung: House Of Fools. Pour Me Out.
havin fun And it's cool til a fool pull a loaded gun Cause another dude kicked his Bacardi over He had to act a fool now the party's over Gun shots rang
so called G's Pour out a little liquor for your real motherfuckin partners Don't let the drink get like that y'all, huh Pour out a little liquor Pour out
off If you could bottle my style and sell it to somebody It'd probably smell like cologne made out of bits of panther They call me anchor man, I'll hold
your neck and your throats hanging out With a do-me-ray Now it's about time I say Kid Rock, Kid Rock, is that you? Yeah, let me tell ya what I wanna
hold a place If you know me after flush... on this lock of place There's no feeling like your bitch... chilling right You in Italian leather and you fool
do me, do me, do me Na the way you dey do me Girl, I love the way you do me (do me 6x) Boy, I love the way you do me (do me 6x) Na the way you dey do
, I'm up by noon I might sit around, I might write me a tune I might go fishi' and again I might not I might get me a fourty or pour me some scotch The
like the whole world is against me. Eva since the death of pimp c. but me [Chorus:] I'm up in the studio, me and my drank, me and my drink, me and my
:] Up in the studio me and my drank, me and my drank, me me and my drank Uh uh Up in the studio me and my drank, me and my drank, me me and my drank [
all in yo house Gang bang niggas we gon' turn this bitch out Eastside ridaz and we all in yo mouth Dogg Pound Gang we let the mothafuckin' doggs out Nate
this track fuckin' with me, y'all is willin' to try Chyna Whyte the thug bitch with no feelin's inside Motherfucka Hook [Ludacris] Well pour out the
on this track fuckin with me, y'all is willin' to try Chyna Whyte the thug bitch with no feelings inside, motherfucker [Hook] [Ludacris] Well pour out
ya pants off If you could bottle my style and sell it to somebody It'd probably smell like cologne made out of bits of panther They call me anchor man
' doggs out? Niggas betta run and hide, we about to ride Who let the mothafuckin' doggs out? Who let the mothafuckin' doggs out? Who let them Eastside ridaz out
