the same Woke up this morning Woke up this morning about 10:13 Six pack of stout a stick of sensi Go in the kitchen what do I see No electricity, no TV, no Andy I got my uncle
they can't stop this Andy Milonakis, flow so retarted And never wanna use my dad's name as a crutch so I'm here to prove a point without him or Uncle
Got a forwarding address, baby I ain't got no home I got no direction home That's the style of a bastard child This is the song of a bastard son Uncle
- the lady nearly died. But the torment never stops, it's written right across the eyes of George and Jeannie, Charlotte, Renie, Uncle Geoff, Cousin Julie, Audrey, Johnny, Andy
go first and ask your father Oh, I'm sure he'll set you right, sayin' Here's a health to all true lovers, Their sisters and their brothers, And their uncles
lately I've been told She lived with her uncle, the cause of all her woes; Her uncle had a ploughboy, which Mollie liked quite well And in her uncle'
's alright, ma, everybody must get stoned I been Mick Jaggered, been silver daggered Andy Warhol, won't you please come home? I been mothered, fathered, aunt and uncled
Mit keresek, enn itt? Azt mondjok, hogy lakem lefogta a ferjemet en meg lecsaptam a fejet. De nem igaz, en artatlan vagyok. Nem tudom mert mondja Uncle
excuse me If you choose the real shit you can't refuse me Ask your grandpap I bust the dandy rap I be posted in the bar like Andy Capp And I, could,
You did to MY throat. "THEY" are waiting upstairs. Come. Missy is there too. She's sitting on Grandpa's lap. I bet You're dying for a cup of tea." Solo: ~ Andy
play, I play the stoned villain I stay strapped like its holy to filling Another slab of shit talk, another king of New York Another bag smoked, while Uncle
Written by sting, stewart copeland & andy summers I don't want no dead end job I don't wanna be no number I don't want no dead end job I don't wanna
Huey was a captain with Andy Jackson He settled in Kentucky on a soldier?s pay It was two hundred acres and for almost as many years The land has borne
I playu the stone villain I stay strapped like its holy to fill in Another slab of shit talk another king of New York Antoher bag of smoke Uncle Howie
play the stoned villain I stay strapped like its holy to filling Another slab of shit talk, another king of New York Another bag smoked, while Uncle
's alright, ma Everybody must get stoned I been Mick Jaggered, silver daggered Andy Warhol, won't you please come home? I been mothered, fathered, aunt and uncled
