Print

No need to be cooping it home Got the stoop as my throne Brick and concrete stricken on me, with a raunchy ho swollen No Rome throne golden Only beige with a mix of grey thats the closest, much of my motion's The Hudson a flowing Carrying Russian locust, Irish locust, Puerto Rican locust Get off the boat and seeking, to go kiss the golden streets, but No its, instead stop, still get hot off bedrock, accept home, left home To get a home, to get it on, to get a grip, to get a life long bird On a quite strong grip Looking at your New York Giants with eyes that realize how high it gets Business legitimate or you swiping shit, kind of like this Nikon lens Stole it from a ho, she was high on meds Brought it to Canal, now they buying it Recycling it on some unlicensed shit How could you put a, pu-put a price on this City we surviving in, city we be vibing with City I been living here my whole life, how could I be hyped on shit? Six million trains to ride, choose one Six million stories to tell, whose one? There's plenty as many as pennies in the futon Hidden, waiting, to be spitten once the crews gone (x2) City got me working, got me doing service, don't deserve it Witty, whittling, learning Letras de cancionesMost this wood is probably burning Most this wood is probably burning How can you buy, sell the sky, warmth of the land Spit where you want, nigga don't give a damn Freshness of air, sparkle on the water Eagles are our brothers, and flowers are our daughters Thirst, desire dreams, pleasure sorrow Sacrifices in depth blue shade grove taro Where was it then it wasn't far though Attach your attention to now, no not tomorrow Air precious, same, same breath The beast, the trees, the spore, the man, the rest Rotten buffaloes on the prairie, no not the pain White chief from Washington shot from trains If all beasts were gone, life as one Man would die from a great longing to sing Cling to calls and fallen wings Up to me, I'd spring to spring and fling this bling Six million trains to ride, choose one Six million stories to tell, whose one? There's plenty as many as pennies in the futon Hidden, waiting, to be spitten once the crews gone (x2) City got me working, got me doing service, don't deserve it Witty, whittling, learning Most this wood is probably burning Most this wood is probably burning How can you buy, sell the sky, warmth of the land Spit where you want, nigga don't give a damn Freshness of air, sparkle on the water Eagles are our brothers, and flowers are our daughters From Letras Mania