Testi:
The Old Dead Tree Don T Wake Me Up

I go too far. I hate to feel rejected! I am disguised as a crow, I fly so low I rest behind my make up. Don't wake me up

like has-beens, and I ain't impressed I'm dying to bet, you feel as though I ain't the best Prove I'm lying if I ain't correct, they call me Doc I'll

Cause I don't wanna be cool, I don't wanna be you I don't wanna shake hands, or wear your G-Unit shoes Don't want you on my hooks, don't wanna be in

let me hear it. Deck the halls, trim the tree, that's the spirit. Holidays are not for me, chop down the tree. They've got to be the worst. I'm old and

never dividing the bread Bitch I bet I get the debit if I don't get the cred (I deserve) Throwin' westside up like Pac, when they pop ya block up, Big

to learn my friend Wisdom ripes with old age, if you got it Now wake up you distressed, yeh yeh yeh Under, under oppressor man affliction Hell fire can't

for me Couple niggaz round us, down to do the shootin' for me I'm still ridin' wit my main bitch She rollin' the joint, somethin' old school playin'

'cause I don't wanna be cool, I don't wanna be you I don't wanna shake hands, or wear your G-Unit shoes Don't want you on my hooks, don't wanna be in

, let me hear it Deick the halls, trim the street, that's the spirit Holidays are not for me, chop down the tree they've got to be the worst I'm old