know I feel this Are you ready? I don't think so Somebody give me my truck So I can ride on the clouds So I can turn up the bass Like Somebody pass my guitar
they life span, the same Real love, real, real Everybody knows that love's real love, someone to trust in you for real Everybody need love that's real
shocks, I can get off my rocks You know that I ain't braggin', she's a real pussy wagon - grease lightnin' chorus repeats (guitar and drums) chrorus
heart of gold and the bible read No satellite dish for his T.V. set And he ain't on line with the internet He says guitar music entertains us here And it sounds real
when free stylers step up I don't do it, tell you 'bout it on the next cut 'Cause right now we gotta feel the flow And make sure we keep it real slow
your carving Of Led Zeppelin in your desk in ya den I'm hittin mad skins you got bad skin get rad skins for your MP3 player kid I'm a Real Player!
real royal lady, true patron of the arts Said the best country singers die in the back of classic cars So if I ever got too hungry for a suitcase or guitar
flashe non due And you don't stop sure shot Go out to the parking lot And you get in your car and drive real far And you drive all night and then you
see us from New York City They're gonna stay with us Oh, a couple of weeks or so I'm gonna take 'em to Restaurants and everything Gonna get'em some Real
Slingshot khakis and a pair of wallabees Three braids in my beard represents the year Of another LP for those chose to sleep Best to wake up, recognize, I comes with the real
got too old to jump up and down (up and down) (so then what happened?) So he put the mic down and picked the guitar up (picked the guitar up) (and
You're shinin' like a superstar, baby An' the crowd goes wild He played the honky-tonks, the roadside bars A real humdinger, a blue-eyed singer With a red guitar
park I think, it was the fourth of July Another day in the park I think, it was the fourth of July People talking, really smiling A man playing Guitar
the wind blow back your hair Well, the night's busted open These two lanes will take us anywhere We got one last chance to make it real To trade in
the local cops, cherry top, rips this holy night The street's alive as secret debts are paid Contacts made, they vanished unseen Kids flash guitars
Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? Caught in a landslide No escape from reality Open your eyes Look up to the skies and see I'm just a poor
on me cos i?m refusing to give in Cos imma give you music cos we need it to exist, bitch So imma play my guitar, rap about aliens and sing about stars
I play in a band We're the best in the land We're big in both Chelsey & France. I play one mean guitar & then score at the bar There's a line o'chicks