Someone took in these pants Somebody painted over paint Painted wood And where he stood, no one stands It's been said he's sitting now In the churning
Übersetzung: Pflaster. Shoot The Singer.
plastic bag in the alley Raised in a foster home With no mother to love and I never knew my papi Back in the days of Bobby McFerrin Used to sing don't
runnin the same, bickin the lane Ice drain shoot the rest of the pain, I'm reckless Coressing the flame, addressing the strange It's Wu-Tang Chorus: {Sampled Singer
baby In a plastic bag in the alley Raised in a foster home With no mother to love and I never knew my papi" Back in the days of Bobby McFerrin Used to sing
want my sunshine, I want my sunlight Same old story, over and over Somebody tryin to take knowledge over So I fight back with a native dance Sing my
Shoot me with the real thing Shoot me, me moth, me motha' Now's the time for you To get right and repent I've been converted Sit right there and get
May your music break my ear drums. and your pavement scrape my knees. and the next time i get up and try leaving town shoot my fucking plane to the
all I got to lose 'Cause I just can't settle for these streets shawty I refuse That's the shit I like Lord got the door shot down to the pavement Remove
went out the window 'cause by now they were right at my door I took three shots and then I laid They rushed in shooting so I threw a quick grenade It
leave it be Though it's stuck down hard it's like chewing gum While a girl on the floor singing R.I.P. 'Cause the song birds don't do singing on pavements
I get as sick As the people livin' in this town Bounce me off the pavement, bounce me off the wall Bounce me off a taxi car Give me a shot of that old
be back. if you're still around, that's where i'll be. you have my thoughts and you have my words, but the road has my contempt. pavement hisses me
ya ass as far as they can throw you They think you punkin' but they don't know you Dissin' turf operata, play with twelve shot birettas Buy the Burger
don't have a mouth?" You could have been fine, you could have made it. You could licked the lips of god but you chose the pavement. Just lay there with
was blowing kerosene My lips and fingertips were stone, I wore my heart on my jeans I sang the blues like the dogs left too long in the street I still sing
floor where the other brothers leave it be Though it?s stuck hard down like chewing gum well I?ll gurn on the floor singing 'RIP' Cos the songbirds don't do singing on pavements
the met?. The pedal to whatever [x2] Shooting round the city bends I hear the conversation in my head. Thinking of the place to be, I sing a little
