what, Otis? What? You're country. That's all right. You straight from the Georgia woods. That's good. You know what? You wear overalls, and big old brogan
book A picture of you in your birthday suit You sat in the sun on a hot afternoon Picture book, your mama and your papa And fat old uncle Charlie out
You were born with football boots and a sun tan complexion You once thought that on reflection, you'd really got it made You shrugged and smiled and
? When you're as old as I.. is anyone as old as I?- What difference does it make? An offer comes, you take. [sings] For the sun will rise And the moon
got us cozy, Bottles lookin' rosy, Bags meant to go G, Poppin' tags while we Photoshoppin' like Adobee, Cool as Obama, All the drama was the old me
BRiCK BOWEN HOMES BOWEN HOMES B BOWEN HOMES B BOWEN HOMES CATCH ME iN THE BRiCK B BOWEN HOMES B BOWEN HOMES B BOWEN HOMES BOWEN HOMES {repeat 4x) FAT
shit and it's too late the fuse lit I treat my nine like a new bitch and the shit do kick, word I'm on the Cross Bronx with Fat Joe and my man On the
, but now I bust mine Instead of bustin' at enemies when the sun go down Me and my niggas with a fat one Smoke 'em all down to nothing Crushin rappers
, Mississippi you're on my mind I think I feel an angry oven heat The Southern Sun just blazes in the sky In the dusty weeds a fat grasshopper jumps
Busta Rhymes No disrespect but I?m smooth as a Jazz artist But live as the Roots Homey I?m beyond the hottest I?m not a star, I?m the sun, not number
and ethical epiphanies the interest is minimal im on an awsome mission with an angel that can take it all the way to where the sun is just like a runner
But I don't even know, tell me which book you readin' from Aight, next caller, hey Busta, heard about you on Miss Jones Why you bringin' up old shit
was walkin' down the street In my blue jeans and my bare feet I saw old Mrs. Mayo in her garden so high She got her prize azaleas And her big ol' fat
the Queen of Maybe For her merchandise, he traded in his prize Paper late, cried a voice in the crowd Old man dies, the note he left was signed old
(*Woman speaking Spanish*) - w/ ad libs [Chorus] Buckin my horse, giddy up, hey yo, hey Buckin my horse, giddy up (throwin up this dirty old for life
Hieroglyphics gonna drop the bomb Yeah, under the sun, under the sun Under the sun we gonna take it light Yeah, under the sun, under the sun Under the sun
the old Hulk Hogan movie You got a heart homeboy? Then show it to me The flow's majestic, I spit a roll of golden fruities I'm old school like roll a
Fat Man Scoop, Crooklyn Clan Timbaland, Timbaland Fat Man Scoop, Crooklyn Clan Timbaland, Timbaland Whatever I say, y'all gotta do Whatever I say, y'