I'm in I can't sing, I ain't pretty, and my legs are thin Don't ask me what I think of you I might not give the answer that you want me to Oh well When
see you tryin to creep me for my dough, why you trippin Youse a shipwreck nigga when you broke co-mission Jesse Jackson cant help you with the Hope Coalition [Chorus - Shannon Jones] Well
loved makin' love to my makeba she was like my queen of Sheba i remember how we used to smoke chiba oh you don't smoke no more well that's cool well everybody
will. Well it was just sundown in a small white town. They call it Eastside Palmdale. When the Afroman walked through the white land, houses went up for sale. Well
will Well it was just sundown in a small white town They call it eastside Palm Dell When the Afro Man walked through the white land Houses went up for sale Well
Oh, John Dillon James was my good time country buddy Well, we hunted, talked and fished his last days away He was just a hired farm hand, worked old
spit The Marilyn Monroe, of the ghetto I'm a sucker for cornrows, niggas in Timbos hey (I got old Timbos mama, let me, let me, can I hit that?) Oh Lord
the drummer said, boy, those cats begin to roam Oh baby oh we oh oh Ooh la la that rock and roll Ya hear me oh we oh oh Ooh la la that rock and roll
you great folks out there This is hardcore 10-4.... Freaky friday, things ain't going my way Everything is gone, my life is a country song Oh-oh I
, because the twins stayed with her mom but when they finally found the bitch still had the twist round her arm Shit, I can't forget about that big kid
the twins stayed with her mom but when they finally found the bitch still had the twist round her arm Shit, I can't forget about that big kid Gino fucking
got a hundred gun two hundred clips Goin to New York, New York Verse One: KRS-One Well, I'm drivin my car, cross country With a hundred guns and about
what? All them fraud magazines I'm tired of I'm tired of us not bein on no covers But you know what? We rock the streets, ANYWAY regardless to what anybody say Well well
country cabin Made of clay and wood Where lives a young country boy Named Johnny B. Goode He never ever learned To read or write a book so well But he