: [Munoz / Munoz] All the things let undone, All the smiles that are gone, All the love you won't know, All the places you won't go.
All the things let undone, All the smiles that are gone, All the love you won't know, All the places you won't go.
[Munoz / Munoz] All the things let undone, All the smiles that are gone, All the love you won't know, All the places you won't go.
but that fire-ya Keep all my hoes cause I'm a liar Neighborhood uh-hotter that a toaster, ridin' MoMo's and I'll roast a deal what's on my old poster
gift Another day with you A twist or a waltz It's all the same schmaltz With just a change in the scenery You'll never be old hat That's that! You
: I was hungry and I was cold, had a father far too old, couldn't make it to the place he'd like to be. In a tree-trunk in the park, he was living
: Father I know that you've witnessed a darkness in me Twas spawned in shadows of the old gallow's tree I'm but a sad depraved reflection of our inhumanity
we meet, On any old street, And you're in your girlish prime. The short and the tall, Are coming to the ball, I go there all the time. Behind every tree
: Tweedle-dee Dum and Tweedle-dee Dee They're throwing knives into the tree Two big bags of dead man's bones Got their noses to the grindstones Living
: Hot air hangs like a dead man From a white oak tree People sitting on porches Thinking how things used to be Dark night Dark night The neighborhood
him be Let's feed upon his misery Then string him up for all the world to see I'm sick of all Your hypocrites Holding me at bay And I don't need
of a strain to get rid of the cold I'm still pretty young but I look much too old I'm so tired I'm so sad I'm so tired I'm ALMOST DEAD I still don't
: (feat. A.B.) [Intro: Elzhi - talking] Yeah, this goes out to all the hoods in the D Glen Street, 7 Mile, Coney Gardens, School Craft Just thinkin
I see my old homey, he died in a drag Chillin with two bitches, "What up, Shaggs?" And he passed me a blunt like a tree trunk I tried to hit it, but
I'll work for crack With my old-ass E.T. shirt on my back And I'm sleeping in the gutter Right next to Jam Town's mother I'm eating dead rats in the
rhyme smelled like dirty hair and art school turpentine once at a truck stop, I read the good news it turned my old boots, it gave me new views it turned my dead
all better get our places before God tells us to our face WE ARE...PAST the Human Race. Let?s pray that we all agree we got to straighten out the family tree
