gotta write them all again You think she's an open book But you don't know which page to turn to, do you? You think she's an open book But you don't
write them all again. You think she's an open book, But you don't know which page to turn to, do you? You think she's an open book, But you don't know
Traducció: Coca. Llibre Obert.
evasive, cut all the faces, catch all the cases, this real You rather bet 'cha life than face me I mean I got this rap game locked with more cake than
school Fuck school, 'cause me didn't have no school clothes I had to go, hook up, a book up, now I'm a crook up On the late night posted, slangin' cakes
and study every inch about you Fast math measuring what you amount to The laughter, the screams The numeral, the song of psalms, the book of dreams
go uh ah off the snare drum It's Big Psych long time no hear from Bangin' tracks out so wax out your ear drums Max out prepare to blackout Here comes open
And we was smokin', jokin' and poppin' bottles Gettin' open, strokin', pokin' and poppin' models I was hopin', that they could get paper with me But when I started gettin' cake
[Rae] Good shit, nigga next time, no more whatever shit [Nas] Fakes be celebratin but they be mistaken [Ghf] Word to the wise [Rae] Keep your eyes open
Amazin glazin purple haze patients Blazin asians in mercedes benz stations Yo moving through the tavern, guns that burn, sons that learn Stabbin an intern, corporate book
I tried to win her over right from the start But something always got in the way We've been sitting in your backyard for hours While my mother baked a little cake
the floor Drowning the silent sound of His call Empty words flow in the darkness Hell fire in your soul shooting out sparkles The gates were open when
The door stands open - Across lines, invisible hands are held, golden streamers building in the night. Alone, the possibilities are enormous. Step outside
From Alabama: Yeah, and whoever wins gets nineteen kegs Aynsley: Nineteen who? Guy From Alabama: Kegs, you know . . . Aynsley: Cakes of what? Meredith: Gee Jimmy, that's cool! Aynsley: Cakes
at yer looks, your voice or your face And by any number of bets in the book Will be rollin' long after the bubblegum craze You need something to open
dirt, murked and earth plate shaked You ain't stirring hurricanes, you breath on birthday cake See some more fags, we'll choke them herbs And beat promoters down and be booked
mi posse may tek her Then cake her, how we're flipping thoughts skipping Ready for the sabotage while the entourage Take her somewhere remote, got her open
