hold my heart You, you won't let up after I am caught, touch turns into fisticuffs it's all in your head, wonder if I'm fixed to cut. fake statistics
hold my heart You, you won't let up After when I'm called Touch turns into fisticuffs It's all in your head Wonder if I'm fixed to cut guitar solo
Traduzione: Stelle. Fisso.
said the walls have ears lil' nigga, I hear when you talk, Let's get this shit clear lil' nigga, I run New York [verse 1 - 50 Cent] I wake up, stare
Ricki, why are you so sticky? Why are you fixed to every silly dancing man? I can see you by the window plane But for some reason, It's really not that
teeter on the evening On a ghost up in a fuse a lot second before the cock dropped In the Styx and stared him down until he fixed it Fashion, it's cool
gas, and have the rubber burn up on the TAR, I'm out to get money real FAR I hear my moms voice, {singing} "I'm wishin on a star!!" But I got to go far
Yo, my name is Ak the hard rock shit that shot a cop with a glock Cause he tried to make the money STOP She didn't speak, she didn't START, she didn
Like puny insects without a destination in the mud of Malkuth these bodies crawl but our eyes are fixed beyond the horizon where our sidereal thrones
Hit some tiny children If the black hadn't a-pulled her off, I think she would have killed them A soldier with a broken arm Fixed his stare to the wheels
chair were nowhere to be seen you had magically moved to the closet eyes fixed on the spot where the dryer had been oh yes no one can stare at the wall
chair were nowhere to be seen You had magically moved to the closet eyes fixed to where the child had been Oh, but no one can stare at the wall as good
up To rest my weary head against The cash machine again I found my friends Hungover Badly dressed and underweight Dilated eyes fixed to a glaze I stare
sorry ass, you sorry ass Oh! Death to the martys, come on! I remember it all clearly, I remember it precise How he fixed me with his stare and looked
door to chase a little breath Fangles in my head, shake the song off Another manic Monday night, its gonna be a long walk A car pulled up, a fixed up
scriptures (What you gonna take witcha?) I take it all but the fall And when I'm sittin still you can blame the Benadryl and alcohol As far as the stars
it was only myself as usual - the beldam of the bedlam. A toothless hag moving eyeball-beads in an abacus. They stare so, they stare so on her rope of