't you set me free Won't you set me free Empty rooms are closing in on me I can't find my way out It's too hard, too hard to breath And still I want
and everything's going right And life has a funny way of helping you out when You think everything's gone wrong and everything blows up in your face A traffic jam
off young Teddy Pender is out Mask on scare the fuck out ya but ya ass grown I wasnt born with no silver spoon But I can heat it in a spoon and pitch
the precipice into the trickle down runoff pool They hypnotised the summer, 1979 Marched into the capital brooding duplicitous, wicked and able, media-ready, Heartless, and
the kind of pudd'n Bill Cosby advertises Pull out your spoon, and let us begin But if you front on the pudd'd You might not get your spoon in
kind of pudd'n Bill Cosby advertises Pull out your spoon, and let us begin But if you front on the pudd'd You might not get your spoon in
and everything's goin' right, right And life has a funny way nobody helpin' you out when You think everyhing's gone wrong and everything blows up In your face A traffic jam
jam I give her the last spoonful, that's just the way I am And I drive her to work each day Even though it's early and work is far away And I don't
when the boozers close You'll get a belt from your dad You look so scruffy lying there Strawberry jam all through your hair Though in the world you haven't a care And
on jam I give her the last spoonful, that's just the way I am And I drive her to work each day Even though it's early and work is far away And I don t
on full, the sun is in the sky So you drop the top, it's time get out Kind of how it is when you kick eight bars And not rhyme once and still sound fly
who cried wolf and no one was convinced The man who hit lotto and lost his ticket In a rainstorm, and struck by lightnin' tryin' to get it And sometimes
for my prey and then I react like a tiger Clip up, pick up, rip them all up and And then I heard my history callin Readin readin, chubb never had a clue And
-D.M.C., and him over at Def Jam Well, damn, how the hell do you think we livin'? How you think it feel to be a Simmons? Imagine Christmas and Thanksgivin
lost her sheep And Rip van Winkle fell the hell asleep And Alice chillin' somewhere in Wonderland Jack's serving Jill a bucket in his hand And Jam Master
Run] You're gettin' dollars, when dealing with Rev. Run Look what I did done And I come from Hollis, flipped it and scripted it and there it go Wanna
and bigger and bigger and bigger Sort of like drinkin', a forty ounce of liquor I know you heard of tales from the Crypt Well, this is more better, tales from the hip And
uphill all the way You should be used to it and say My back is broad enough sir To take the strain and it's Hello mother, it's your son And aren't you
