man with a foot in the grave and scarcely the strength of a louse, Yet he tilted a poke of dust on the bar, and he called for drinks for the house. There
live here, I live down the hill on this winter's afternoon The distant sun, it slowly swings the room around This room hangs on a golden chain suspended, frozen Frozen
m back to this hammer that I hafta tote Stash ya kno, I'm killin em, only nigga on the Ave. with coke Only man in the house, I gotta bring in cash And
m stressing love at first sight Some ain't right, I ain't the type of cat like me to be dealing with mad feelings And even though mami was mad appealing
the whole place. [09:43.15]Modern Talking's in the house. [09:45.05]Modern Talking's in the house. [09:47.00]Modern Talking's in the house. [09
with At your house, staking it out, posing as carpenters Looking for closets and house guns with cartridges I'm low down and stressed I go around the rest of the house
At your house, staking it out, posing as carpenters Looking for closets that house guns with cartridges I'm low down and stressed I go around the rest of the house
'm out ballin ya I can make u turn your head without callin ya twanks crawlin uh let it be known I'm thrown I'm throwed tha Swisha House home thrown I
in my ends 14 when I entered the game All I wanted was a little bit of fame (just a bit) And now I'm f*ckin with the grown-ups Go mad like sh*t I forgot
our patrolers will get round cold soul Diddly Bo leave for feelin a saga foretold Who got caught pon the block for gold got the old Heads froze - they
on this rainy day, I'm chilling Glass pianos and Portuguese drapes, hang from the ceiling Persian rugs, Moroccan sofas I walk to the house in paisley
out gooses on, Stan Smiths The housing cops can suck our dicks, we jumping out Of convertible matchbox shits, next drip inhaling Chilling, my throat frozen
you Beat the two minute and thirty seven second clock Suprise: time started already, muthafucka Say that shit, nigga [Ghostface Killah] I'mma say it, don't get mad
and bout to yank it in dis h** rubba bands on my neck drop a pound on my fist boy we gettin to da money bout 10 stacks on my wrist and i stay ridin clean 2.5 on my house
dont matter where you run to scream or shout Cause I hold the key to unlock this madhouse! Mad...House... Mad House It dont matter where you run to scream
doorbell, nobody wants any I resort to goin' cheaper - 2 for a penny Anybody, everybody, they hate me I can tell when they spit and degrade me There's only one house