As your loved ones they place Heavy stones on your face Your sonnets of life They are filling the case High windows inside me Look down on your face
Traduzione: Pretty Things. Morte.
Uhh.. dear Mr. President Whas happenin? I'm writin you because, s**t is still real f**ked up in my neighborhood Pretty much the same way, right around
together The God of comfort will comfort me and comfort others, a suffering shouldn?t keep us from loving on our brothers We had a sentence of death within
Bars Of Death With this mic in my hand I'm like the Legion of Doom comin' out to iron man Understand, it's ya last one so take a breath And pretty up
the life and the death, the changin of the seasons It's the joy and the pain, the angels and the demons It's a wonderous thing, the changin of the seasons
the devil and drink with the demons that'll sleep with death and fell short of breath when you wake up hungover you wish you were sober just be pretty
met the queen of Iowa She was dying on a couch in the suburbs And with all of the things she was dying of She was more alive than the others She was pretty
on the floor colored pills and hospital beds vultures come to swarm overhead white washed walls darker than skin the smell of death is the only thing
things so mildly I'll turn you into a morbid gore Roughneck Totally sick And full of sadistic whims I didn't come here to sing a song or whistle a pretty
lucifer burnin the hazy faced out still could get a hold of the ladies hit from madame bavaskier in a old mercedes this is death speakin, the smell of
Get this through your pretty skull: You were simply entertainment. Worthless conversation, a more worthless conversation piece. Always find that way
(feat. Cormega, Foxy Brown, Jungle, Nas) [Foxy Brown] Protect this nigga for the necklace I though of the death wish The pretty slim sex shit the rep
Care Of My Functions Always Got One More Thing So Forget About Function We Create This World And The Problems Go On Create Our Lives And The Things That
rare to the ear This year and every year, we gettin props everywhere I don't fuckin care what you claim hip-hop is My production bounce pretty like brown
cater to those with wealth In fact the only thing that may surprise you is that I manage to dress myself I am definitely not the brightest man my brain is pretty