For Sunday For 17 years I've let this go, I've let this go No one cares now, not even I now, that this familiar place has never once felt like home
For Sunday For 17 years I've let this go, I've let this go No one cares now, not even I now, that this familiar place has never once felt like home So
it for that cash nigga You's a sad nigga You supposed to try to make her break that bread When she come home, she done break a nigga, take the bread
still goin off, I'm thinkin of addin riches For dollars and sense, see I gotta have it goin on, Or be trapped in this hole for too motherfuckin long
on stage but that's how it's gotta go in the stone age The fame in my game I name rapture like a polished rock I'll make it shine for sure word is that
I love all advertisements though accused by robot news casters who capture and pollute spoon fed hazardous fog to joy luck catholic squad please take
little beer, don't smoke no crack, have a good time before Christ comes back. Keep your head high, keep your back stiff. I'll see you Sunday night for
relate, I got your whole brain on checkmate Rob Swift is his name, with Akineyle in the game You're best to maintain, as we aim for your brain as we aim for
she loves me, she loves me not and "big government should not stand between a man and his money" i mean, "what's good for business is good for the country" our children still take
and take their pain but until that day when they can finally say that the work is over and its time for play they pray thanking whoever for another day
s lost, I'll show it If its torn, I'll sew it It's kinda off beat yeah I know it The styles I originate, I don't wait for fate I practice love not hate
before you even play Up to date but came too late Better get yourself another name You're so right but overnight You're the one who has to take the blame
Behind the lies they?re fighting for And black gold from an old king?s soul won his round How can someone take a life In the name of god and say it?s
own criminal here we go From a place where a nigga might bury ya Nigga act up and I better take care of you scared of ya I be ready for the war Nigga
Receivin a UPC code for my name and the ???? The media labelled us as heritage's derelicts ?????? as we awaited our death sentence Now tell me who changed the Sabbath to Sunday
forth on a journey for the, perfect blend Rhymin was a fad in the days of my dad Now MC's is makin G's and goin for bad The X in my name makes it, all
on mud tires [Brantley Gilbert:] I was brought up in a small town in North Georgia raised on southern baptist morals in a front row pew for the Sunday
sand Send the clergy emissary to the cemetery You requested to be buried, with your bones to carry I'm blood sample savvy, I name your first clone Jerry
