ya turf you goin out there head first do you know the rules when you got beef with a fool can you stick and move and do you sleep with the tool you in
Now for the U Sound shot givin' up what I got It's a lot cause I'm hot wreckin' the spot Sensation for your nation, man I use to be patient The floor
there was i fooled gave you all of me every part of me even sacrificed my precious jewel then you patiently chipped away at me using your words as tools
oxymoron-I'm a moron and I swore on the Koran I'd never be poor snorin At the Red Roof Inn while Korn gets bored at the Four Seasons Impatient I'm patient
in my tummy It's makin' me play hide and seek like Jason, I'm so hungry She's naked, see no privacy but I can see she wants me So patient see, I try
now the city cries (U-God) Unconscious for months (beep beep) Deep in coma shock When you awoke, it was hope Dry throat Choking off tools, being fed
Could you take some wood Some screws and tools Sketch some plans And make things Could you dig some earth Plant some seeds Patiently wait And grow things
We built and sold them the guns Made in America Sacrificing our kids lives for global crisis While fools of the NRA Watch kids shoot kids in high schools With tools
He had a Martin, I had a fender We were thirteen years of age Out back in the tool shed We were searching for a sound Every day all through that summer
to myself would she like me? I want her so I holla no hesitation, I spoke quick She started diggin my coverstation, my blood racin You play the doctor and I be your patient
the last visible molecule A space night like Rom, consume planets like Unicorn Blasting photon bombs from the arm like Galvatron United Nations, gun fire style patient
Mass murderin', brains on the floor You're dead 'cause I said you shouldn't live no more You done and made me lose my cool Where's my tool? Who's the
enough of them, yo bust em in. Vinnie I had enough of them, yo bust em in. Lost bust em in. Bust bust em in. (3x) I treat tools like bitches cause I
, prepare for the occasion We throw about eight in, the house that you was raised in Mouthin' off fakin'll make you a loud patient Achin', with your
some come out in spots Some blame the management some the employees And everybody knows it's the industrial disease The work force is disgusted downs tools
for those that sold dope If your momma had knew, I know she'd throw blows Y'all moved here from Chicago to grow You got a tool up inside of your coat
don't you come to me with all your color-coded quotes everybody's laughing but they never ever get my jokes fool, you're a tool, a sheep and it's obvious
wax, I like to tax in Gazebos, surviving like a mac king, clever Never lacking when I'm stacking endeavors I try and try to tell fools That I've been through hell and my tools