O amor que diga Que fim dar Se de forma impar Este gosto Livre no seu pouso A noite vem Dry the phrases Where you across With this soft breeze Covered saints
Bio Killaz Saint Sinna Tha Klepto Tryin' to sound like Mr. J all intellectual Where's ya fuckin' mustard man? Check nuts like a physical All mystical
Card Skinny Its Pitch Black And Covers All Incidentals And Mrs Wrong Sorry You Aint Notice My Potential Fuck Yall Rappers And Your Self-Proclaimed Status I Can Only See Green Now I Happy Saint
California, I?m going back to my home state To tell them all that I made a mistake And I keep looking for that blindfold faith, lighting candles to a cynical saint
thought I'd heard the end of it And now I know how far you'd go To be the next freak show American psycho Cover of the magazines Patron Saint to troubled
dingles And fuckin' everybody wants me on their single My mom 44 years with no wrinkles I got a hundred thousand on me I could sprinkle All year my house covered
Funky, alright One time for your mind, two times for Mumia's saint crew Three times for my Brooklyn dimes, seven times for pleasure I don't trip, I don
[Prevail] I mix the world thickest plot rest assured your under seige Im kinda outta touch in which case, your way outta your league I cover four
through the snow Rudolph the Reindeer, red nose that glow It's all about the candycanes and Christmas list North Pole and that chubby jolly old Saint
enemy's frame Written in blood, my ambition is driven by thugs Got two glock nines and I fill them with slugs Call me Saint Valentine, 'cause when I kill
peak Beat up the beat, overload rap treat mix Cape in the wind like the John Wu flix Now, take the spirit, crash more clearer The spreadin' of body, covers
' pop somethin' Muthafuckas forgot somethin', I'm not frontin' This ain't rap, music, this ain't that You fuck around I'll have you sleepin' where the saints
game, it's a shame As I see 'em watching bet There's a million of creative rappers tryin' to be me I'm starting to feel like Jimi Hendrix When they cover
" New School, Old School, I hate you motherfuckers I'm steady plottin', cracklin' my ass wit'cha album covers Cross 'em out and put a 'K Then no Saint
latin, use the codes) They might be taping (Aww man, you think they taping?) Gotta be careful on the phones cause them folks might be taping (Aww shit, they readin lips, cover
Well if you don't like it go ahead, find yourself a saint go ahead now, try to find a boy who's gonna be what I ain't now what you need is a plastic
One, two, three, four Well, if you don't like it Go ahead, find yourself a saint Go ahead, now try to find a boy Who's gonna be what I ain't Now what
Sometimes they see you just now they don't Maybe this is a lucky day or a penny on the way home Sit between the clouds for cover raindrops hide in
