day I will, No-ones going to fucking tell me jack, But can you rely on anyone in this world? No you cant; its not my fault theres wall to wall empty cans
will No-one's going to fucking tell me Jack But can you rely on anyone in this world? No you can't, it's not my fault there's wall to wall empty cans
Traduzione: The Streets. Lattine vuote.
these words like conjunction a friend before I bring the end to your bodily functions when I speak I go deep, like when I'm stabbin it You comin up empty
all fucked up now, caught your hand in the jar Another small step back for tha man at the bar (hey bartender) Spill a little bit of blood on the street
dyed hair and predictable gestures. Nouveau wankers. There's a thousand empty stages waiting for their empty performances, A thousand empty faces waiting for their empty
stays awake with ease, bangin' car doors are annoying me. The rain is coming down, started to lash, and I'm waiting for the glass to smash. Empty cans
I walk on decrepit bricks And kick sticks and rusty soda cans Simply for lack of better stimulation Motivation comes and goes like gas station patrons
your feet then smash them with hammers Literally, not metaphorically or grammatically I take away at humanity Death is for certain, my life is insanity My Mac-10 has a empty
no one here to greet you when you come around Crossroads alleys and empty streets Burn my feet on the glow runnin? from the heat Can?t turn around Burned my bridges down Road of empty cans
burn from the skyline on top of the world Til there's nothing left of her Let's watch this city burn the world my body doused in ash With two empty cans
send apologies but I got 50 niggas Loyal to die for me, look what the devil done to me Runnig the beef under the streets Na we each gotta knock of da leash A bunch of empty
a bodega That leather vest is a low fleece And the sheriff in this boys is police We line up empty bean cans On the fence for target practice Feared
over your shit Got my feet up on you sofas, man I mean a hostess for my open hand You coming home to dishes and empty soda cans I got your bitch in my
m taking over your bitch Coming over your shit Got my feet up on you sofas, man I mean a hostess for my open hand You coming home to dishes and empty soda cans
them gees (Proof: Gimme that!) Them crab niggaz, wanna jingle ya keys What chu bout to do, bleed (3-1-3) [Proof] Y'all don't run the streets, the streets
s (gimme that!) School Craft wanna jingle your keys Whatchu 'bout to do? Bleed! [Proof] (3, 1, 3) Y'all don't run the streets, the streets run you Put
lungs pretending The echoes belong to someone Someone i used to know And we become silhouettes when our bodies finally go Ba ba ba... I wanted to walk through the empty streets
