Lletres:
Casual Windows

Bout to make her a star! Y'all know the deal When your fuckin' freak ho's in your automobile [First Chorus] Come on let's fog up these window's Turn

6'N the morning' police at my door Fresh adidas squerk across the bathroom floor Out the back window I make a escape Don't even get a chance to grab my

da Oo oo oo Da da da da da da Goin' on a shopping spree Pick something out to look good on me I want quality Not quantity Want a classic Not a trend Casual

glasses, lost in a mass mess Task-less dilemma to match somebody's status And I'm average as fuck, no car cats gassin' me up Passin' bucks like a casual

I was travelling home on the subway When this vision got on at Maida Vale And as I casually eyed the classifieds She sat down next to me Every head

me with a microphone, 'talk to me, won't you tell me your stories.' So I talked about conscience and I talked about pain And he looked out the window

last commands Instantly one thousand flames arising Ill scent the burning hides surrounding A settlement debased entirely Enola gay had made a casual

microphone 'talk to me, won't you tell me your stories.' So I talked about conscience and I talked about pain And he looked out the window and it started

My body is a shell, inside is a tortured soul Waiting to grab a hold, of everything you that know And casually throw it all right out the window I return