my mother bleeds history, my brothers bleed history they say the eyes, they say it all there's ghosts in here and oh, they will beat you and oh, they'
Übersetzung: Flugzeuge für Stars Mistaken. An alle Mütter.
my mother bleeds history, my brothers bleed history they say the eyes, they say it all there's ghosts in here and oh, they will beat you and oh, they
's why you say 'amen' after each and every prayer I just stare at the church man Spendin mo' money on the church band But Elijah's got a plan Got the
, could be I'm dreaming But we all ask for divine reason While still breathing, and until leaving Who?, What?, When? Where?, How? But most of all why? [
so raw Go play 4-4's ready for war All out, what, what, wanna blow, what, what Teamsters what what, mother fucker From Monday to Sunday, it's all about
turns the key of life To hear the thunder roar Ancients gather amidst the stars Mortals stare in fear The Earth is damned beneath the mist A veil of
oh mother, where'd you learn to get fucked like that? little brother's eyes should be wide but his head's been filled with shit the sins of our fathers
a bridge, if not to bury a friend" I won't relent with blood on my teeth and blood on my hands It's my piece mother fucker, and I'm digging in because
looking for a harder crystal, I'm feeling for something smoother I'm listening for a starter pistol. three sheets to the wind and I'm using clouds for
children. Deja vu, could be I'm dreaming, But we all ask for divine reason, While still breathing, and until leaving. Who?, What?, When? Where?, How? But most of all
plans to blow up You cane make it out of the ghetto if you reach for the stars When the times're getting ruff, just think with your heart Love is all
here Unit of the year We settin up shop and we ain't going nowhere We want it all Even if we gotta brawl for it We want it all Even if you gotta fall for
She ran into the street, scared out of her head I watched the stars in the heavens for a while Then I came around for good, but not with a smile Moved
play 4-4's ready for war Verse Four: Mase All out, what what, Wanna blow, what what Teamsters what what Mother Fucker From Monday to Sunday, it's all
me less. So I?m writing to apologize for all the horrors committed in my name, Although that was never what I intended, I feel I should take my share of the blame. All
