magazines. Party pals and sociable gals. These are not my people. No. These are not my people. And it looks like the end, my friend. Gotta get in the wind, my
Traduzione: Sud, Joe. Questi non siete mio popolo.
We've been sent Judge not by my skin color but my character's content In no way is this an attempt to claim to be exempt From my people's situations,
it, so you can see it as your expression, and learn the lesson, on life in ghetto sections and what you feel is the forward direction for black people, not these
smoke my life away H-Town superstar Sippin soda mixed with barre Thought you never hear my lyrics over a bass guitar My horses are cars With a V 12 motor And my
greasy, down south with the bud Run running like a rhino, spittin on vinyl This is my final gun Run breakin' that spinal, this is my title Y'all get
We've been sent Judge not by my skin color but my character's content In no way is this an attempt to claim to be exempt From my people's situations
