Lletres:
The National Bank

: What gives words the power to change their intended .. content? And who said our last silver dollar already has been spent? I roam alone through rooms

: A saxophone with flesh wounds is my true singing voice I've got a pizzicato love affair but the snare drum is my first choice Anyhow it's up to me

: There's a peg on the line It is hanging on to clothes There's a grape on the vine So here the story goes I'm a peg on that line And I am holding

: What was left of the rain? I could hear under my bicycle tires What was left of your love? I could feel like the steam from a fire What is left of

: I'd like to see the world run by kids And the National Bank is where their treasures are hid Like pieces of paper with invisible ink That collect the

your nuts, dump the bodies in the desert Here's the keys to a truck Me, I'm overloaded, born hard and scarred Crime intellect, more complex than nerves in your spinal chord Bank

know the deal, it's all about a dollar bill You know the deal, it's all about a dollar bill You know fo'reals, the only way that I can chill Uh, Banks

Swiss cheese, nigga Ant Banks you wanna hoe? You wanna bitch? Well, can I get a bitch? (Bitch) Nigga, can I get a bitch? (Bitch) Short, give me a bitch? (Bitch) Banks

This is me man I just bust, I don't adjust much To bust what this month left, I'm huff puff On the hush hush, they'll never touch us Dis-a-gust the national