Motion and this Our ghost town I snap back Only for a moment, and I Simmer right down It's you, me The Lonely Left In Motion and this Our ghost town
evil that we do Tonight we're ghosts I've fallen down but never give up Create what was left behind, it was you Beyond the hourglass, and a hundred years
[Sex noises] (food clothes medicine) Heh. So y'all know it's nearly a hundred and ten degrees in this fuckin' vulgar room domain. Got the motherfuckin
you like a ghost And a hermit turned butterfly when love bloomed But you weren't allowed to date so it had to cocoon Innocence stripped at the hands of
like '93 With failing hands we hold it high And raise number 25 to the sky I believe we're right in the mix and it Eels a little like '86 With failing hands
They made with their hands a path across the elegance i remember now all the stories from this dream i know that you have been living in the past
to go in the deep Don for real with the same gotti traumata pill Von o niel, embraced by the arms of the ill Art of war, a hundred men, cars galore Wanted
(feat. Styles P) [Large Professor:] Yeah it's the ghost SP The G-O-D AZ SP, it's the ghost SP With the G-O-D AZ SP, it's the ghost SP With the G-O-D
Quickest damn gun slingers I've ever seen Got murdered in cold blood That ol' saloon there was their lil' home away from home They say the ghosts of Bad
If you have to drown, I will drown with you If you have to burn, Ill burn in hell with you Ive put to death a hundred times Ghosts that haunt your weary
to her chest listening to the ghost in her bones In the kitchen, Raney slipped his hand between the pipes From a brown bag pulled five hundred dollar
million rappers cadavers Never been the type to talk My ice-grill's like, looking down the wide jaws of a white shark 'Bout to rip off your arms like perforated paper A hundred
found ghost But my ghetto is, animal found toast My shell, mechanical found ghost But my ghetto is, animal found toast My shell, mechanical found ghost
cats that want the 8 and a half I know some short hoes that snort O's and import O's And sport gold with more ice than the North Pole So hand them chips
7 8 9 ten come on motherfucka we can do it again [repeat] See i aint never had shit but my strife and my game and my life and all thems is just hand
while they recite the old tales the crowds turn into meaningless ghosts of you I?m finding this hard to believe in this prospect is getting out of hand