can see your eyes Behind a curtain of smoke and dreams No matter where you are Always in my heart As a shadow I'll be close to you Through good and
And wait for the picture, hate it now they say and I can miss like mister All of the smoking all you got me thinkin And all of this dreamin im supposed
night, on some bruce wayne shit livin' my life, gettin' high payments fuckin' with some new broads and they high maintenance and they wearin' high heels, trip so we're high heels tipsy and
the top down, baby, she flies Run, run with the fury of the saint in her eyes Run, run, hide your cha-cha, baby, she goes With blond hair and a gun smoking
her top down baby, she flies Run, run with the fury of the saint in her eyes Run, run hide your cha-cha, baby she goes With blonde hair and a gun smoking
take all my glory Don't you feel sorry me Tied up with leather and rope A little bit of medicine to give me hope I'm inky like a smoking gun It's gonna
come home to plenty cream Bentleys (Ahehe) You name it, I could claim it Young, black and famous with money hangin' out the anus And when you need a hit, who you go and
a hit nigga Hot mother fucker down to the skit nigga Game over playa and nigga ya scored low Hit me later young and I'm at the award show Bank account ten digits and
to run (OH THAT'S CRAZY) And ain't a threat on my family, dogg (THAT'S CRAZY) Courthouse got my name in the log (OH THAT'S CRAZY) And ain't my name Sean
and y'all knew this when I doubled the pie Had a shorty and a girl who'd comin' out of BWI I hated algebra but I loved to multiply And I told my nigga
--a I got ya What u got in ya trunk sound like an opra Way u stay stuntin on niggas deserves an Oscar Yo I smoke all day jus like a rosta And u know its
I got ya What u got in ya trunk sound like an opra Way u stay stuntin on niggas deserves an Oscar Yo I smoke all day jus like a rosta And u know its
out there that got some dreams Don't give up on your dreams real talk Ready kids, let's go Dreamin', yeah, dreamin', yeah Dreamin', dreamin', yeah Dreamin', yeah, dreamin
hurricane Looking through a glass window And ya screaming to the top of yours lungs And the bells done rung and the crowd can't hear you And all that
t afford this life had to f-ck a ball player and I'm here every night maybe twice, late at night we be in white tee's, me and skateboard P no Nike's just
record stuck And that it couldn't make it off He's a cool hand Luke He's Jimmy cross slippery slope He's just possessed and crazy Thank you for nothing baby All those dreams
Backstreet Listen up This seems so hypnotic, smoke and mirrors, lights and magic Paper faces in gold There's soldier boys, beauty queens, everyone's
