Showing posts sorted by relevance for query 45. Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query 45. Sort by date Show all posts

Thursday, July 29, 2010

Brimful Of Asha (Norman Cook Remix) - Lyrics - Fatboy Slim

Title: Brimful Of Asha (Norman Cook Remix)
Artist: Fatboy Slim
Composer(s): Tjinder Nurpuri

Lyric:
There?s dancin' behind movie scenes
Behind the movie scenes, sadi rani
She?s the one that keeps the dream alive
From the morning, past the evening
To the end of the light

Brimful of Asha on the 45
Well it?s a brimful of Asha on the 45
Brimful of Asha on the 45
Well it?s a brimful of Asha on the 45

And dancing behind movie scenes
Behind those movie screens, Asha Bhosle
She?s the one that keeps the dream alive
From the morning, past the evening
To the end of the light

Brimful of Asha on the 45
Well, it?s a brimful of Asha on the 45
Brimful of Asha on the 45
Well, it?s a brimful of Asha on the 45

And singing, illuminate the main streets
And the cinema aisles
We don?t care about no government warnings
?Bout their promotion of a simple life
And the dams they are building

Brimful of Asha on the 45
Well, it?s a brimful of Asha on the 45
Brimful of Asha on the 45
Well, it?s a brimful of Asha on the 45

Everybody needs a bosom for a pillow
Everybody needs a bosom
Everybody needs a bosom for a pillow
Everybody needs a bosom
Everybody needs a bosom for a pillow
Everybody needs a bosom
Mine?s on the 45

Mohammad Rafi, 45
Lata Mangeshkar, 45
Solid state radio, 45
Ferguson Mono, 45

Non-Public, 45
Jacques Dutronc and the Bolan Boogies
The Heavy Hitters and the chi-chi music
All India Radio, 45, Two in ones, 45
Ovvo Records, 45, Trojan Records, 45

Brimful of Asha on the 45
Well, it?s a brimful of Asha on the 45
Brimful of Asha on the 45
Well, it?s a brimful of Asha on the 45

Everybody needs a bosom for a pillow
Everybody needs a bosom
Everybody needs a bosom for a pillow
Everybody needs a bosom
Everybody needs a bosom for a pillow
Everybody needs a bosom
Mine's on the 45

Seventy seven thousand piece orchestra set
Everybody needs a bosom for a pillow
Mine's on the RPM

Brimful of Asha on the 45
Well, it?s a brimful of Asha on the 45
Brimful of Asha on the 45
Well, it?s a brimful of Asha on the 45

Everybody needs a bosom for a pillow
Everybody needs a bosom
Everybody needs a bosom for a pillow
Everybody needs a bosom
Everybody needs a bosom for a pillow
Everybody needs a bosom
Mine's on the 45

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02c005da7c215255cf7b32500603f3d2

Thursday, August 19, 2010

Brimful Of Asha - Lyrics - When I Was Born For The 7th Time - Cornershop

Title: Brimful Of Asha
Album: When I Was Born For The 7th Time
Artist: Cornershop
Composer(s): Tjinder Nurpuri

Lyric:
There?s dancin' behind movie scenes
Behind the movie scenes, sadi rani
She?s the one that keeps the dream alive
From the morning, past the evening
To the end of the light

Brimful of Asha on the 45
Well it?s a brimful of Asha on the 45
Brimful of Asha on the 45
Well it?s a brimful of Asha on the 45

And dancing behind movie scenes
Behind those movie screens, Asha Bhosle
She?s the one that keeps the dream alive
From the morning, past the evening
To the end of the light

Brimful of Asha on the 45
Well, it?s a brimful of Asha on the 45
Brimful of Asha on the 45
Well, it?s a brimful of Asha on the 45

And singing, illuminate the main streets
And the cinema aisles
We don?t care about no government warnings
?Bout their promotion of a simple life
And the dams they are building

Brimful of Asha on the 45
Well, it?s a brimful of Asha on the 45
Brimful of Asha on the 45
Well, it?s a brimful of Asha on the 45

Everybody needs a bosom for a pillow
Everybody needs a bosom
Everybody needs a bosom for a pillow
Everybody needs a bosom
Everybody needs a bosom for a pillow
Everybody needs a bosom
Mine?s on the 45

Mohammad Rafi, 45
Lata Mangeshkar, 45
Solid state radio, 45
Ferguson Mono, 45

Non-Public, 45
Jacques Dutronc and the Bolan Boogies
The Heavy Hitters and the chi-chi music
All India Radio, 45, Two in ones, 45
Ovvo Records, 45, Trojan Records, 45

Brimful of Asha on the 45
Well, it?s a brimful of Asha on the 45
Brimful of Asha on the 45
Well, it?s a brimful of Asha on the 45

Everybody needs a bosom for a pillow
Everybody needs a bosom
Everybody needs a bosom for a pillow
Everybody needs a bosom
Everybody needs a bosom for a pillow
Everybody needs a bosom
Mine's on the 45

Seventy seven thousand piece orchestra set
Everybody needs a bosom for a pillow
Mine's on the RPM

Brimful of Asha on the 45
Well, it?s a brimful of Asha on the 45
Brimful of Asha on the 45
Well, it?s a brimful of Asha on the 45

Everybody needs a bosom for a pillow
Everybody needs a bosom
Everybody needs a bosom for a pillow
Everybody needs a bosom
Everybody needs a bosom for a pillow
Everybody needs a bosom
Mine's on the 45

Play the MP3 online for free!
8947ffe5d8ce98ad723baa20a79175ee

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Talking All Night - Lyrics - Hall &Amp; Oates

Title: Talking All Night
Artist: Hall &Amp; Oates
Composer(s): Daryl Hall, John Oates

Lyric:
Yeah, baby
Ooh, what's you gonna do baby
All right, yeah

Ain't it funny I'm tied to the magic of your caress
Ain't it lovely how we fit together
Girl you're the best

And it seems like we've been talking forever
Words and wine and we've been lost in time
On no, you're touching emotions I used to hide
Too deep inside

12:45, quarter to one
We're talking all night, talking all night
1:45, quarter to two
We're talking all night, all night

Heat of passion, the hours and minutes don't mean so much
I know the language of love is a tender touch, yeah
Now listen baby

Now speak slowly, make the night last forever, spill the wine
So you'll forget about time
Won't you break down and show me emotions
You used to hide so deep inside

12:45, quarter to one
We're talking all night, talking all night, all night
1:45, quarter to two
We're talking all night, all night, yeah baby

2:45, quarter to three
We're talking all night, talking all night
3:45, quarter to four
We're talking all night, all night

I want you to stay with me baby
Oh, stay with me tonight
12:45, oh it's only 12:45
Talking all night
Oh, all night, all night
All night

Oh, what you want to do girl
1:45
Oh, the beginning of the evening
The shack, remember the shack
Talking all night
All night girl, ooh

2:45, 2:45
All night
So what you thinking honey
All night
Can I get you anything

3:45
3:45, I think I see the dawn come up
We're talking all night
We're talking all night yeah

4:45
Oh baby, it's you
Talking all night
It's you, it's you, you
You, you, you, you, you
Nothing but you baby

5:45, talking all night
6:45, talking all night
We've been talking all night
All night, oh yeah
7:45, quarter to eight time to get up

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c6f0ce0c994df8a5a66e089a901d0b15

Thursday, July 29, 2010

45 - Lyrics - Elvis Costello

Title: 45
Artist: Elvis Costello
Composer(s): Elvis Costello

Lyric:
Bells are chiming for victory
There's a page back in history, 45
They came back to the world that they fought for
Didn't turn out just like they thought, 45

Here is a song to sing to do the measuring
What you lose, what you gain, what you win?

Nine years later a child is born
There's a record, so you put it on, 45
Nine years more, if we're lucky now
Nine-year-old puts his money down, 45

Every scratch, every click, every heartbeat
Every breath that I held for you, 45
There's a stack of shellac and vinyl
Which is yours now and which is mine? 45

Here is a song to sing to do the measuring
What you lose, what you gain, what you win?

Bass and treble heal every hurt
There's a rebel in a nylon shirt
But the words are a mystery, I've heard
'Til you turn it down to 33 and 1/3
'Cos it helps with the elocution
Corporations turn revolutions, 45

So don't you weep and shed
Just change your name instead
What you lose when it all goes to your head?
I heard something peculiar said
"Perhaps he's got a shot and now he's dead", 45

Bells are chiming and tears are falling
It creeps up on you without a warning, 45
Every scratch, every click, every heartbeat
Every breath that I bless, I'd be lost, I confess, 45
45, 45, 45
Yeah

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7238bd56f9666a129e8c413ddd271e4a

Monday, August 2, 2010

45 Grave - Lyrics - Sleep In Safety - 45 Grave

Title: 45 Grave
Album: Sleep In Safety
Artist: 45 Grave
Composer(s): Don Bolles, Dinah Cancer, Paul Cutler

Lyric:
I am 45 grave
No reason 45 grave
Who does 45 grave
What is 45 grave

What is in my mind
45 grave in outer space
Demon at a slow pace
What is in my mind

Dying time is behind
45 grave is outer space
Demon at a slow pace
What is in my mind
Dying time is behind
45 grave is out

[Incomprehensible]

Devil's evil has been viewed
As gamma rays from the moon
Devil's evil had been viewed
To be the knowledge of 45 grave

Shriek alarm plays face
45 grave floating in fire
Hit things for hire
Shriek alarm plays face

Anti-no-non in straight lace
45 grave floating in fire
Hit things for hire

Shriek alarm plays face
Anti-no-non in straight lace
45 grave floats

Oh, oh no they're coming, oh no
Oh, oh no they're here, oh no

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84121a90dce7a73b12d9d3d73ff9373e

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Smokin' 45 (Original Unused Track) - Lyrics - Bad Company

Title: Smokin' 45 (Original Unused Track)
Artist: Bad Company
Composer(s): Tim Hinckley, Peter Sinfield, Boz Burrell

Lyric:
Yeah, hey, I've seen the Bad Lands
I've held a whirlwind in my hand
Slept in the center
Whiskey has washed away the sand, yeah

Gamblers who cheated and sheriffs who lied
The last thing they saw from the death that they died
Was my Smokin' 45, my smokin' 45

Ten thousand dollars, that's what I'm worth dead or alive
Six loaded chambers, ten men rode up not one survived
They got my name on the telegraph wire
Dead men's faces and a gun that's for hire

Gamblers who cheated and Sheriffs who lied
The last thing they saw from the death that they died
Was my smokin' 45, my smokin' 45, yeah

I'm riding south to the Mexico line
Posse behind me and they're making good time
Men with vendetta's, who shouldn't have tried
To reach for quick fame with a gun at their side

Against my smokin' 45, my smokin' 45, my smokin' 45
I'm talking about my smokin' 45

My smokin' 45, smokin' 45, smokin' 45

Gonna get you, can depend my friend
Gonna get you, dead or alive
My smokin', smokin', smokin' 45, yeah

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770d2e03ac594f16946d7e254dfe8152

Saturday, August 21, 2010

Forty - Five - Lyrics - Elvis Costello

Title: Forty - Five
Artist: Elvis Costello
Composer(s): Elvis Costello

Lyric:
Bells are chiming for victory
There's a page back in history, 45
They came back to the world that they fought for
Didn't turn out just like they thought, 45

Here is a song to sing to do the measuring
What you lose, what you gain, what you win?

Nine years later a child is born
There's a record, so you put it on, 45
Nine years more, if we're lucky now
Nine-year-old puts his money down, 45

Every scratch, every click, every heartbeat
Every breath that I held for you, 45
There's a stack of shellac and vinyl
Which is yours now and which is mine? 45

Here is a song to sing to do the measuring
What you lose, what you gain, what you win?

Bass and treble heal every hurt
There's a rebel in a nylon shirt
But the words are a mystery, I've heard
'Til you turn it down to 33 and 1/3
'Cos it helps with the elocution
Corporations turn revolutions, 45

So don't you weep and shed
Just change your name instead
What you lose when it all goes to your head?
I heard something peculiar said
"Perhaps he's got a shot and now he's dead", 45

Bells are chiming and tears are falling
It creeps up on you without a warning, 45
Every scratch, every click, every heartbeat
Every breath that I bless, I'd be lost, I confess, 45
45, 45, 45
Yeah

Play the MP3 online for free!
8322bf783db92ed10fa1bd1f0ad18606

Monday, August 2, 2010

No Pistols - Lyrics - Adrenaline Rush 2007 - Twista

Title: No Pistols
Album: Adrenaline Rush 2007
Artist: Twista
Composer(s): Jabari Bristow, Carl Terrell Mitchell, Frederick Taylor, Calvin Thomas

Lyric:
Yea mobster, let's ride on them bitches
It's time to go to war, niggard, you ready

Don't want to see you wit no pistols
If you ain?t ready to roll, niggard
(Put down that 45)
Don't want to see you wit no pistols
If you ain?t ready to roll, niggard
(Got to let that 40 ride)

Don't want to see you wit no pistols
If you ain?t ready to roll, niggard
(Let's do a homicide)
Don't ever want to see you wit no pistols
If you ain?t ready to roll, niggard
(You ain't ready to ride)

Don't want to see you wit that four five unless you gone ride
If I say you gone die, motherfucker, I get so live
But you be procrastinating
I think you fucking play wit pistols 'cause they're fascinating

You motherfuckers ain?t gone do nothing When you get through fronting
Niggas that I know already know you ain't gone shot nothing
End up at the pearly gates when they test you
Got a dirty face but what you know about a 38 special, shit

And I know them hard words make you jump
But ya heart worth when you make the moss barb pump, bitch
And them shorties looking at you like a punk bitch
'Cause you ain?t make what you claim ain't gon bump click

And my pry when you hear them bullets bumping
When them shorties come and ride on em
When the pistols click clack

If you still alive will you really get the dumping
If you got that 45 on you
Tell them bitches get back

Don't want to see you wit no pistols
If you ain?t ready to roll, niggard
(Put down that 45)
Don't want to see you wit no pistols
If you ain?t ready to roll, niggard
(Got to let that 40 ride)

Don't want to see you wit no pistols
If you ain?t ready to roll, niggard
(Let's do a homicide)
Don't ever want to see you wit no pistols
If you ain?t ready to roll, niggard
(You ain't ready to ride)

Once upon a time in the chi
There were three real killers who bust guns and puff fi
They copped weight by the key and backed up every gram
And stay ready for busting wit the pistol in they hand

I'm preaching murder like a vicious reverend
About niggas who claim they shooting but neva seen three 57's
Now what reason would u hold it fa
Put the pistol down, nigga, pick that weed up, roll it up

Twist up the lie, you don't really won die
Don't ya blood clot lying, ya bullets don't fly
V style aim smooth like Vidal Sason
I keep the smith and Weston wit me like I'm black moon

Tossed up the living room, stomped through the kitchen
Knocked off that nigga in the bathroom shitting and pissing
What you shaking for, I taught you said you ready to ride
Don't be coming wit me if you said you strapped because I

Don't want to see you wit no pistols
If you ain?t ready to roll, niggard
(Put down that 45)
Don't want to see you wit no pistols
If you ain?t ready to roll, niggard
(Got to let that 40 ride)

Don't want to see you wit no pistols
If you ain?t ready to roll, niggard
(Let's do a homicide)
Don't ever want to see you wit no pistols
If you ain?t ready to roll, niggard
(You ain't ready to ride)

I keep a P 95 nine milli ruga
You fucking wit a shooter quick to bloody ya suit up
My aim impeccable, point like a decibel
300 foot away in a tower snipping the festival

What you know about 9's
And glock 40's and 45's AR 15's wit the 5 pound slide
30 shot clips snub, noses wit the rubber grips
Wicked tex would put the kiss of death on ya lovers lips

It's M.O.B nigga , we quick to squeeze, nigga
AK-47's making them bitches retrieve, nigga
Like a G nigga, I make 'em bleed, nigga
Come at me wrong and I'm busting that's on my seed, nigga

My poor chest is filled of bullets and tec's
Ski mask gloves and vets so nigga what's next, nigga
It's real tugging you a bitch to the bone
If you ain't gone do nothing, shorty, leave them pistols alone

Don't want to see you wit no pistols
If you ain?t ready to roll, niggard
(Put down that 45)
Don't want to see you wit no pistols
If you ain?t ready to roll, niggard
(Got to let that 40 ride)

Don't want to see you wit no pistols
If you ain?t ready to roll, niggard
(Let's do a homicide)
Don't ever want to see you wit no pistols
If you ain?t ready to roll, niggard
(You ain't ready to ride)

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3ae216a44547a5e8e481c3e501a9649f

Crazy Rap - Lyrics - The Good Times - Afroman

Title: Crazy Rap
Album: The Good Times
Artist: Afroman
Composer(s): Joseph Foreman

Lyric:
Wait a minute, man, hey, check this out, tell it
It was this blind man, right?
Man, check this out it was this blind man, right?
He was feelin' his way down the street with this stick, right?
Hey, he walked past this fish market, you know what I'm sayin'?

He stopped, he took a deep breath, he said
?Woo, good morning ladies?, you like that shit, man?
Hey, man, I got a gang of that shit, man, I tell you what
My man on the guitar, fool on the drums

Everybody just crowd around the mic
I'll tell you all these mutha-fuckin' jokes
But first, I'ma start it off like this
Hey, help me sing it, homeboy

Colt 45 and two Zig Zags, baby, that's all we need
We can go to the park after dark, smoke that tumbleweed
And as the marijuana burns we can take our turns
Singing them dirty rap songs stop and hit the bong
Like Cheech and Chong, sell tapes from here to Hong Kong

So roll, roll, roll my joint, pick out the seeds and stems
Feelin' high as hell flyin' through Palm Dale, skatin' on Dayton rims
So roll, roll the '83 Cadillac Coup de Ville
If my tapes and my CD's just don't sell, I bet my caddy will

Well, it was just sundown in a small white town
They call it East Side Palm Dale
When the Afroman walked through the white land
Houses went up for sale
Well, I was standin' on the corner sellin' rap CD's
When I met a little girl named Jan

I let her ride in my Caddy 'cause I didn't know
Her daddy was the leader of the Klu Klux Klan
We fucked on the bed, fucked on the flo'
Fucked so long, I grew a fuckin' afro
Then I fucked to the left, fucked to the right
She sucked my dick till the shit turned white

I thought to myself, ?Sheba, Sheba
Got my ass lookin' like a zebra?
I pulled on my clothes and I was on my way
Until her daddy pulled up in a Chevrolet
I ran, I jumped out the back window
But her daddy, he was waitin' with a 2 x 4

Oh, he beat me to the left, he beat me to the right
The mutha-fucker whooped my ass all night
But I ain't mad at her prejudiced dad
That's the best damn pussy I ever had
I got a bag of weed and a bottle of wine
I'm a fuck that bitch just one more time

Colt 45 and two Zig Zags, baby that's all we need
We can go to the park after dark, smoke that tumbleweed
And as the marijuana burns we can take our turns
Singing them dirty rap songs stop and hit the bong
Like Cheech and Chong, sell tapes from here to Hong Kong

So roll, roll, roll my joint, pick out the seeds and stems
Feelin' high as hell flyin' through Palm Dale, skatin' on Dayton rims
So roll, roll the '83 Cadillac Coup De Ville
If my tapes and my CD's just don't sell, I bet my caddy will

I met this lady in Hollywood, she had green hair
But damn she looked good
I took her to my house, 'cause she was fine
But she whipped out a dick that was bigger than mine
I met this lady from Japan, never made love with an African

I fucked her once, I fucked her twice
I ate that pussy like shrimp fried rice
Don't be amazed at the stories I tell ya
I met a woman in the heart of Australia
Had a big butt and big titties, too
So I hopped in her ass like a kangaroo

See, I met this lady from Hawaii
Stuck it in her ass, and she said, ?Aie?
Lips was breakfast, pussy was lunch
Then her titties busted open with Hawaiian Punch
Met Colonel Sander's wife in the state of Kentucky

She said, ?I'll fry some chicken if you just fuck me?
I came in her mouth it was a crisis
I gave her my secret blend of herbs and spices

Colt 45 and two Zig Zags, baby that's all we need
We can go to the park after dark, smoke that tumbleweed
And as the marijuana burns we can take our turns
Singing them dirty rap songs stop and hit the bong
Like Cheech and Chong, sell tapes from here to Hong Kong
Hey, wait a minute man, check this out

I met Dolly Parton in Tennessee
Her titties were filled with Hennessey
That country music nearly drove me crazy
But I rode that ass and said, ?Yes, Miss Daisy?
Met this lady in Oklahoma put that pussy in a coma
Met this lady in Michigan, I can't wait till I fuck that bitch again

Met a real black girl in South Carolina
Fucked her till she turned into a white albino
Fucked this hooker in Iowa, I fucked her on credit, so I owe her
Fucked this girl, down in Georgia, came in her mouth
Man, I thought I told ya

Met this beautiful sexy ho
She just ran 'cross the border of Mexico
Fine young thing, said her name's Maria
I wrapped her up just like a Hot Tortilla
I wanna get married, but I can't afford it
I know I'ma cry when she gets deported

Colt 45 and two Zig Zags, baby that's all we need
We can go to the park after dark, smoke that tumbleweed
And as the marijuana burns we can take our turns
Singing them dirty rap songs stop and hit the bong
Like Cheech and Chong, sell tapes from here to Hong Kong

Have you ever went over to a girl's house to fuck
But the pussy just ain't no good?
(Say what?)
And then you're getting' upset 'cause you can't get her wet
Plus you in the wrong neighborhood?

So you try to play it off and eat the pussy
But it takes her so long to come
(Say what?)
Then a dude walks in, that's her big boyfriend
And he asks you where you from?
(Where you from, man?)

So you wipe your mouth, and you try to explain
(I don't bang)
You start talkin' real fast
But he's already mad, 'cause you fuckin' his wife
So he starts beatin' on your ass

Now your clothes all muddy, your nose all bloody
Your dick was hard but now it's soft
(What?)
You thought you had a girl to rock your world
Now you still gotta go jack off

Colt 45 and two Zig Zags, baby that's all we need
We can go to the park after dark, smoke that tumbleweed

Colt 45 and two Zig Zags, baby that's all we need
We can go to the park after dark, smoke that tumbleweed

Colt 45 and two Zig Zags, baby that's all we need
We can go to the park after dark, smoke that tumbleweed
...

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b39df39a9becf69801a3121da9bcc8e4

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Stack Shot Billy - Lyrics - Rubber Factory - The Black Keys

Title: Stack Shot Billy
Album: Rubber Factory
Artist: The Black Keys
Composer(s): Daniel Auerbach, Patrick Carney

Lyric:
Stack shot Billy in the back of the head
Stack made sure Billy Lyons was dead
.45 pistol down in Stack's right hand
Sent him away to the Promised Land

Stack shot Billy
.45
Stack shot Billy
Billy laid down and died

Stack Lee had himself an evil brain
Loved his gun and his sweet cocaine
But Stack got quiet when the shadows fell
Knew soon enough that he'd burn in hell

Stack shot Billy
.45
Stack shot Billy
Billy laid down and died

Stack shot Billy in the back of the head
Stack made sure Billy Lyons was dead
.45 pistol down in Stack's right hand
Sent him away to the Promised Land

Stack shot Billy
.45
Stack shot Billy
Billy laid down and died

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402b8792acfb767b940c2f7865283b34

Monday, August 2, 2010

Car Crash Hearts (Thriller) - Lyrics - Infinity On High - Fall Out Boy

Title: Car Crash Hearts (Thriller)
Album: Infinity On High
Artist: Fall Out Boy
Composer(s): Joe Trohman, Pete Wentz, Andrew Hurley, Patrick Stump

Lyric:
{Yeah, what you critics said would never happen
We dedicate this album to anybody people said couldn't make it
To the fans that held us down 'til everybody came around
Welcome, it's here}

That summer we took threes across the board
But by fall we were a cover story
"Now in stores"

Make us poster boys for your scene
But we are not making an acceptance speech

I have found the safest place to keep all our old mistakes
Every dot-com's refreshing for a journal update

So long live the car-crash hearts
Cry on the couch all the poets come to life
Fix me in 45

So long live the car-crash hearts
Cry on the couch all the poets come to life
Fix me in 45

I can take your problems away
With a nod and a wave of my hand
'Cause that's just the kind of boy that I am

The only thing I haven't done yet is die
And it's me and my plus one at the afterlife
Crowds are won and lost and won again
But all our hearts beat for the diehards

So long live the car-crash hearts
Cry on the couch all the poets come to life
And fix me in 45

So long live the car-crash hearts
Cry on the couch all the poets come to life
And fix me in 45

Long live the car-crash hearts
Long live the car-crash hearts
(Long live the car-crash hearts)

Long live the car-crash hearts
Long live the car-crash hearts

Long live the car-crash hearts
Cry on the couch all the poets come to life
Fix me in 45

{Young! F-O-B! Let's go}

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5c57ca0beb184b493152e8d0e83b5b36

Friday, August 6, 2010

Thriller - Lyrics - Fall Out Boy

Title: Thriller
Artist: Fall Out Boy
Composer(s): Joe Trohman, Pete Wentz, Andrew Hurley, Patrick Stump

Lyric:
{Yeah, what you critics said would never happen
We dedicate this album to anybody people said couldn't make it
To the fans that held us down 'til everybody came around
Welcome, it's here}

That summer we took threes across the board
But by fall we were a cover story
"Now in stores"

Make us poster boys for your scene
But we are not making an acceptance speech

I have found the safest place to keep all our old mistakes
Every dot-com's refreshing for a journal update

So long live the car-crash hearts
Cry on the couch all the poets come to life
Fix me in 45

So long live the car-crash hearts
Cry on the couch all the poets come to life
Fix me in 45

I can take your problems away
With a nod and a wave of my hand
'Cause that's just the kind of boy that I am

The only thing I haven't done yet is die
And it's me and my plus one at the afterlife
Crowds are won and lost and won again
But all our hearts beat for the diehards

So long live the car-crash hearts
Cry on the couch all the poets come to life
And fix me in 45

So long live the car-crash hearts
Cry on the couch all the poets come to life
And fix me in 45

Long live the car-crash hearts
Long live the car-crash hearts
(Long live the car-crash hearts)

Long live the car-crash hearts
Long live the car-crash hearts

Long live the car-crash hearts
Cry on the couch all the poets come to life
Fix me in 45

{Young! F-O-B! Let's go}

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719e4fc0b6b5777949bc905595686e90

Sunday, August 22, 2010

Crunk Muzik - Lyrics - Diplomatic Immunity II - Diplomats

Title: Crunk Muzik
Album: Diplomatic Immunity II
Artist: Diplomats
Composer(s): Cameron Giles, Gregory Omar Green, Joseph Jones, Seon Thomas, Lloyd Geneve, Laron James

Lyric:
Yeah! Ay! Dip set! Come on
Blackout, lets do it
Dip, dip set
Dip, dip, dip, dips
Dip, dip, dip, dips
Dip, dip, dip

Now this here is that bomb diggy
Diggy dang, the dons with me
Killa, he'll kill a nigga you thinkin' 'bout harming me
Capo's corrupted he's wrong vato to fuck wit

Labeled and known as a young Pac to the public
And me, Human Crack in the flesh
I'm the last of the best
One word to describe me, spectacular yes

So stay calm shorty, when you see that palmed .40
I'll pop it slow, you'll rock and roll, like Bon Jovi
So don't fool with the click
Don't fool with the Dips

You will die, you will lie in a pool full of shit
When that gun with the clip in
Start dumpin' and rippin'
At ya'll head, ya'll some dead summama bitches

You give a chick hard dick and bubblegum
I give a chick a hard brick and bubble yum
Like here, take that, shake that, break that
And have them please bring my cake back

You kow what the movements like
You know how movin', right
Move, 'cause we in the mood to fight
This is that, get crunk move bitch, get drunk stupid
High like space, .45 on waist

You kow what the movements like
You know how movin', right
Move, 'cause we in the mood to fight
This is that, get crunk move bitch get drunk stupid
High like space, .45 on waist

This is that bang, bang, bang
To my hooligan, gang
While you movin' them thangs
And ya toolies go bang

Call me Richochet Rabbit
Cause I click and spray matics
And my nigga's straight savage
Penelope pump let off six whole rounds
'Fore one shell hit the ground

In the hood he known as a Capo
To the goons and the heights its all tato
And okay I know me some vato in the life on movin' on patos
Ok muchacho, they told me that you got it paco
I know movin' someone know we usually gone pop you

This that 9 double 1, with a 9 double m
If it's crime lets have fun, lets have fun, lets have fun
This that o trizzy 1, triple o, whoa, whoa
If you scared get ya gun

This that uptop crunk
When the truck stop, dump
This where the bucks stop chump

You kow what the movements like
You know how movin', right
Move, 'cause we in the mood to fight
This is that, get crunk move bitch, get drunk stupid
High like space, .45 on waist

That rooti, tooti, fruity, Louie, what I usually do
This that jump, stop, breathe, whoody who
Gats in the truck, platt, platt, pass to a duck
I'm the menace, owe me money, tat, tat, tat, what the fuck

Ya'll reppin' that 5 still
I'm reppin' that 5 mill
Neverland, thriller, Killa Cam, Jackson 5 bill

Lets style a bit, Italian shit, five thou-outfit
Show you how to get that powder shit
Filed the fifth, jet out of it
My proud of what is yo' turn, Jim so burned

Live bitch, why kiss, on my wrist a glowworm $50000
And I keep heat, 'cause in these streets
Just hear woop, woop, whant, whant, beep, beep
And you rumble, never, me, hit a humble diva
And I stay with the white, I got Jungle Fever

So tell Lucy
That her boobi's, loco, cookie monster, who he
I'm the one that rep the set
Left to left, death to death
You'll get yellow-taped, outlined, etch a sketched

You kow what the movements like
You know how movin', right
Move, 'cause we in the mood to fight
This is that, get crunk move bitch, get drunk stupid
High like space, .45 on waist

You kow what the movements like
You know how movin', right
Move, 'cause we in the mood to fight
This is that, get crunk move bitch, get drunk stupid
High like space, .45 on waist

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dc25850067f8b13d63f48f01c58e2c32

Sunday, August 15, 2010

Rotten Apple - Lyrics - Rotten Apple - Lloyd Banks

Title: Rotten Apple
Album: Rotten Apple
Artist: Lloyd Banks
Composer(s): Curtis James Jackson, Albert Johnson, Christopher Charle Lloyd, Kejuan W. Muchita, Michael J. Clervoix

{AdsenseCode:2D080010-7055-443A-8D12-2B79DDC71256}

Lyric:
Yeah, niggaz it's 2006
And I'm back in this bitch
G-Unit

When I come through I'm comfortable
49's 45's a pump or two
We don't permit outsiders amongst the crew
Matter fact who the fuck are you?

'Cause I, I got to get it got to get it
And you can roll if you with it
I got to get it got to get it
The world and what's in it

And you can get it you can get it
In a New York minute
I got to get it got to get it

Rap gone get that boy found in a river
Dead by a trigga thinkin' he Schwarzenegger
Fools don't take him I took him across the liver
Keep Lloyd line on my stomach from the sizzler

The drama is a part of the story that I'm a give ya
The black mags and back stabs are so familiar
The knapsacks and black bags are full of scrilla
That lame ain't a killa he softer than chinchilla

And I'm a GT see a 4 door wheeler
Matter fact this summer it's 44 4 wheelers
45 on my side shorty ride for his pride
Forty eyes on the prize now I'm energized

Nothin' but shiny shit around the neck n rims
Bitches only come around when ya gettin' record spins
What a way to double up, I'm headin' on my second wind
Rollin' luggage on the jet I ain't gotta check it in

When I come through I'm comfortable
49's 45's a pump or two
We don't permit outsiders amongst the crew
Matter fact who the fuck are you?

'Cause I, I got to get it got to get it
And you can roll if you with it
I got to get it got to get it
The world and what's in it

And you can get it you can get it
In a New York minute
I got to get it got to get it

This is heroin medicine that morphine flow
My gun go off nigga and everybody know
I hold it down with the pound three hundred and fifty seven ways
Hollow tip graze 'ell put a part through ya waves

Half Christian half killa half man half gorilla
I pop somethin' do a nigga dirty for that scrilla
Now I'm floored D's kick the door, found me on the floor
By my toilet tryna flush that raw, toilet wouldn't flush I'm fucked

Half a brick of yay goin' round and round
Mary J my life I'm goin' down
It sounds like we all came up the same
Nigga I'm for real they just rappin' mane

Find out when the semis come out
I'll blow the engine out ya hemi no doubt
I'm New York cities pharaoh, I'll have you starin'
Down the barrel, you got 'em good, get 'em it's cool, hit 'em

When I come through I'm comfortable
49's 45's a pump or two
We don't permit outsiders amongst the crew
Matter fact who the fuck are you?

'Cause I, I got to get it got to get it
And you can roll if you with it
I got to get it got to get it
The world and what's in it

And you can get it you can get it
In a New York minute
I got to get it got to get it

You about to get that ass caught up in some shit
We about to show that ass how it get
When the jealousy turn envy n the shit
Turn deadly the innocent gets hit

Pull up in them whips tinted out spittin' out
Hollows and they rip, niggaz apart in the dark
Or it's day time it's good with me
Just cool I brought the whole hood with me

We had a Gabriel right before MTV
So we can g him to give us that chain for cheap
We got David and Jacob for them bracelets and rings
'Cause our verse in the hood makes their names ring

She take a picture with me on B E T
She the new talk of the hood it's P C P
One taste of the stick she hooked like fish
Me banks and have got this shit vice gripped

When I come through I'm comfortable
49's 45's a pump or two
We don't permit outsiders amongst the crew
Matter fact who the fuck are you?

'Cause I, I got to get it got to get it
And you can roll if you with it
I got to get it got to get it
The world and what's in it

And you can get it you can get it
In a New York minute
I got to get it got to get it

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762e36185458de91c9ec34c457a208df

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Crunk Muzik - Lyrics - On My Way to Church - Jim Jones

Title: Crunk Muzik
Album: On My Way to Church
Artist: Jim Jones
Composer(s): Cameron Giles, Gregory Omar Green, Joseph Jones, Seon Thomas, Lloyd Geneve, Laron James

{AdsenseCode:2D080010-7055-443A-8D12-2B79DDC71256}

Lyric:
Yeah! Ay! Dip-set! Come on
Black-out, let's do it
Dip, dip-set
Dip, dip, dip, dips
Dip, dip, dip, dips
Dip, dip, dip, dip

Now this here is that bomb diggy
(Diggy)
Diggy dang, the dons with me
Killa, he'll kill a nigga you thinkin' 'bout harming me
Capo's corrupted, he's wrong vato to fuck wit
Labeled and known as a young pac to the public
And me, human crack in the flesh
(Flesh)
I'm the last of the best
(Best)
One word to describe me, spectacular, yes
(What)
So stay calm shorty, when you see that palmed 40
(40)
I'll pop it slow, you'll rock and roll, like Bon Jovi

So don't fool with the click, don't fool with the dips
You will die, you will lie in a pool full of shit
When that gun with the clip in
(What)
Start dumpin' and rippin'
At y'all head, y'all some dead summamabitches
You give a chick hard dick and bubblegum
I give a chick a hard brick and bubble-yum
Like here, take that, shake that, break that
And have them please bring my cake back

You know what the movements like you know how movin', right
Move, 'cause we in the mood to fight
This is that get crunk move bitch, get drunk stupid
High like space 45 on waist

You know what the movements like you know how movin', right
Move, 'cause we in the mood to fight
This is that get crunk move bitch, get drunk stupid
High like space 45 on waist

This is that bang, bang, bang to my hooligan, gang
While you movin' them thangs and ya toolies go bang
(Silence)
Call me ricochet rabbit 'cause I click and spray matics
And my niggaz straight savage
(Goonies)
Penelope pump let off six whole rounds
'Fore one shell hit the ground

In the hood he known as a capo to the goons and the heights its all tato
(Tato)
And okay I know me some vato in the life on movin on patos
(Demelo)
Okay muchacho, they told me that you got it paco
(Meda)
I know movin' someone know we usually gone pop you
(Te matan)

This that 9 double 1, with a 9 double M
If it's crime let's have fun
(Let's have fun, let's have fun)
This that O trizzy 1, triple O, whoa, whoa
If you scared get ya gun
(Get ya gun, get ya gun)
This that up top crunk
When the truck stop, dump
This where the bucks stop chump
(Dump, dump, dump)

You know what the movements like you know how me movin', right
Move, 'cause we in the mood to fight
This is that get crunk move bitch, get drunk stupid
(Killa, dip set, let's go)
High like space 45 on waist

That rooti, tooti, fruity, Louie, what I usually do
(What's this?)
This that jump, stop, breathe, whoody-who
Gats in the truck platt, platt, pass to a duck
I'm the menace, owe me money, tat, tat, tat, what the fuck
(You owe me money motherfucker)
Y'all reppin' that 5 still
I'm reppin' that 5 mill
Never land, thriller, Killa cam, Jackson 5 bill
(So what)

Lets style a bit, Italian shit, five thou-outfit
Show you how to get that powder shit
Filed the fifth, jet out of it
My proud of what is yo' turn, Jim so burned
Live bitch, why kiss, on my wrist a glowworm
($50,000)

And I keep heat, 'cause in these streets
(What you hear?)
Just hear woop, woop, whant, whant, beep, beep
(That's the cops)
And you rumble, never, me, hit a humble diva
(A few of 'em)
And I stay with the white, I got jungle fever
(Nose candy)
So tell Lucy
(What)
That her boobi's, loco, cookie monster, who he
(Who am I?)

I'm the 1 the rep the set
Left to left, death to death
You'll get yellow-taped, outlined, etch-a-sketched.
Killa

You know what the movements like you know how we movin', right
Move, 'cause we in the mood to fight
This is that get crunk move bitch, get drunk stupid
High like space 45 on waist

You know what the movements like you know how movin', right
Move, 'cause we in the mood to fight
This is that get crunk move bitch, get drunk stupid
High like space 45 on waist

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8ff68ff69e537ff0e879452096a5249e

Monday, August 2, 2010

Like What I Got - Lyrics - The American Dream - Mike Jones

Title: Like What I Got
Album: The American Dream
Artist: Mike Jones
Composer(s): Michael A Jones, Salih Williams

Lyric:
I pull out the drop, get money on the block
Bustaz wanna hate 'cuz they like what I got
Like what I got, like what I got
Like what I got, like what I got

I pull out the drop, get money on the block
Bustaz wanna hate 'cuz they like what I got
Like what I got, like what I got
Like what I got, like what I got

I guess, they like the way I roll on the Phantom rolls on 24s
Or the candy slab with the top drop or maybe they see 4s pokin' out
If I'm the car, I'ma star, O G by the pound wit a brown a bar
Got X and weed, got wat you need, if you got the feed holla at ya, boi

Hatas hate 'cuz I'm lookin' great, can't get wat I got, so they tend to hate
I pull out from da parkin' lot, drop da top and show Texas plates
I said, ?Hatas hate 'cuz I'm lookin' great, can't get wat I got, so they tend
To hate, I pull out from da parkin' lot, drop da top and show Texas plates"

H-town, that's wat I claim, 84s, that's what I swang
I took a mill out my bank account and used dat for my panky rang
H-town, that's wat I claim, 84s, that's what I swang
I took a mill out my bank account and used dat for my panky rang

I pull out the drop, get money on the block
Bustaz wanna hate 'cuz they like what I got
Like what I got, like what I got
Like what I got, like what I got

I pull out the drop, get money on the block
Bustaz wanna hate 'cuz they like what I got
Like what I got, like what I got
Like what I got, like what I got

I drink purple stuff in dat white cup, jewelry on, so I'm iced up
Shinin' harder than boulevard, I see why they don't like us
Candy cars, that's all I flip, my mo wheel grain that's all I grip
I roll a lounge as many cross it, so when I hit the strip, I don't even trip

In da streets, switchin' lane to lane, in da club, I'ma make it rain
Since 24 been da CEO, us ice age we runnin' thangs, I said
In da streets, switchin' lane to lane, in da club, I'ma make it rain
Since 24 been da CEO, us ice age we runnin' thangs

I hauld the lane in my candy ride wit a pretty chick
On the passenga side, I pull out 745 wit a 45, 45
I hauld the lane in my candy ride wit a pretty chick
On the passenga side, I pull out 745 wit a 45, 45

I pull out the drop, get money on the block
Bustaz wanna hate 'cuz they like what I got
Like what I got, like what I got
Like what I got, like what I got

I pull out the drop, get money on the block
Bustaz wanna hate 'cuz they like what I got
Like what I got, like what I got
Like what I got, like what I got

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08621ca1f17ce07a2b7ced35f120b23e

Monday, August 9, 2010

Hip-Hopera - Lyrics - Bounty Killer

Title: Hip-Hopera
Artist: Bounty Killer
Composer(s): Lauryn N. Hill, Rodney Price, Wyclef Jean, Pras Michel

Lyric:
Michael Jackson brought you Thriller
It made all the gun man holler
Mack 11 guard your gorilla

Why you gwan, watch out for Babylon
MC's babble on and on I phenom
Bomb like Ethiopians, not Italians
Queen Asheba, balance like a Libra

Rain like meteor storms
That change forms like the pillars of Islam
Make the best rule and fuck the rest whole
It takes one drop of purity to clean the chess pool

The next crew, will be comprised of kings and queens
Wearing crowns and holiday scepters, facing Mecca, making records
Raiding biblio techas, I sip nectars with Gods in the street apparel
Keep the path straight and narrow while we bombin' on Pharaoh

So Bounty Killer pour the sorrel let's make plans for tomorrow
'Cause if it's down a Sodom and Gomorrah Refugees we nah go so

Michael Jackson brought you Thriller
It made all the gun man holler
Mack 11 guard your gorilla

So talk well if you vex, try and jump in a mi chest
You Mr. Punk, we"ll come and do your next best
Mi end you distress, mi lay you to rest
Askel 45, Fugees dem tech

Well, talk well if you vex, try and jump in a mi chest
You Mr. Punk, we"ll come and do your next best
Mi end you distress, mi lay you to rest
Rappers from the east and rappers from the west, well

Yo, five years old I heard shots out the window
I thought that it was Zorro, driving in from Mexico
I asked my father Pablo, ?Who the hell is this Paco??
He said, ?It's Bounty Killer, he's driving in from Montego?

That's when shots start to echo from yeah so and from deh so
Well, that is the life of a nigger from the ghetto
Moving 40 kilo, from here to Puerto Rico
Smoke my manifico, but I never do perico

Yo, this is a sound clash, you ain't fit for the job
You're vagina and you're making my cock hard
You wanna rap, here's presents, go rap it in a box
You versus me is like a mouse versus a ox

Wyclef, preacher's son, I sing a hymn the lights get dim
Reflection of the end is your face facing a coffin
Oops, to abstract so you kill me with gaps, figments of your imagination
You never dealt with incarceration

Thought I heard you want to be my rival
Askel 45 a it a idol, them start war end no seek survival
Refugees we gonna treat them detrimental
Punks, fools

Another sound boy dies, slow death
Refugee Camp, Bounty Killer

Michael Jackson brought you Thriller
It made all the gun man holler
Mack 11 guard your gorilla

Through the temples of doom
Somehow we managed to bloom like blossoms
?By any means necessary? said Malcolm
Nights before battle we play dead like possums

Minimizing our losses like caution to the maximum
Stratagies for the Refugees, how many mics do you trip
I say not to many yo, which man runs from my magnum
Haitian shot a man, they blame Jamaicans

Michael Jackson brought you Thriller
It made all the gun man holler
Mack 11 guard your gorilla

Yeah, yeah, yeah
Well, talk well if you vex, try and jump in a mi chest
You Mr. Punk, we'll come and do your next best
Mi end you distress, mi lay you to rest
Askel 45, New York gun take, we'll talk if you vex

Try and jump in a mi chest, so Mr. Punk
We'll come and do your next best
Mi end you distress, mi lay you to rest
Askel 45, California take, well, well

Bounty Killer on the borderline
Refugee camp, Wyclef, L. Boogie
Prazwell and it don't stop

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874957c654023da5115707c692b20565

Friday, August 20, 2010

Back In The Day - Lyrics - Back to Basics - Christina Aguilera

Title: Back In The Day
Album: Back to Basics
Artist: Christina Aguilera
Composer(s): Chris E. Martin, Jimmy Castor, Langdon Fridie Jr, Robert Manigault, Christina Aguilera, Don Costa, Douglas Gibson, Kara Dioguardi, Harry Jensen, Gerald Thomas

Lyric:
What we're gonna do right here is go back
Way back, back into time
Yeah, yeah, yeah

Donny Hathaway, Lena Horne
Miss Aretha, The Real Thing
James Brown, Billie Holiday
Stevie Wonder, Gladys Knight
Louis Armstrong, Minnie Riperton
Otis Redding, Etta James

Back in the day they used to say
Play that song, get it going and the band played
And still today you hear us say
Play that song all night long, Mr. DJ

Though times have changed it's still the same
We all need a minute to get away
So let it go and feel the flow
If you've got soul let the world know

We're gonna set the mood
Gonna go back to an old school groove
Gonna rewind to another time
When the originators, innovators were alive, yeah

So break out the Marvin Gaye and Etta James
Your Lady Day and Coltrane
Turn up your 45's, bring back to life
The sound and vibe of yesterday

Open your mind, enjoy the ride
Get out tonight and grab that Soul Train

Back in the day, back in the day
Back in the day, back in the day
Back in the day, back in the day
Back in the day, back in the day

Y'all remember back in the day, you dig?
Ray Charles, Nat King Cole, Miles Davis, Ella Fitzgerald

Now 'Chain of Fools' and 'Respect'
Was the anthem of a woman Aretha said
'What's Going On', 'Let's Get It On'
Such classic songs, don't forget them

Though times have changed
They still remain my inspiration every day
So give it up for the ones
Who came before, opened up that door

We're gonna set the mood
Gonna go back to an old school groove
Gonna rewind to another time
When the originators, innovators were alive, yeah

So break out the Marvin Gaye and Etta James
Your Lady Day and Coltrane
Turn up your 45's, bring back to life
The sound and vibe of yesterday

Open your mind, enjoy the ride
Get out tonight and grab that Soul Train

Back in the day, back in the day
Back in the day, back in the day
Back in the day, back in the day
Back in the day, back in the day

So get up, re-live it, gotta let yourself flow
Give up your praise, come celebrate
Just get up, get on it, get yourself on the floor
Don't back away, come celebrate

So break out the Marvin Gaye and Etta James
Your Lady Day and Coltrane
Turn up your 45's, bring back to life
The sound and vibe of yesterday

Open your mind, enjoy the ride
Get out tonight and grab that Soul Train

Back in the day, back in the day
Back in the day, back in the day
Back in the day, back in the day
Back in the day, back in the day

I said, oh, baby, I said, I'll do it
Oh baby, woah, yeah, yeah
Woah, woah woah, yeah, yeah
Back in the day

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7b6cbdb1e96c737181558244bb7d7ba1

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Did He Shoot Her - Lyrics - Breaking Hearts - Elton John

Title: Did He Shoot Her
Album: Breaking Hearts
Artist: Elton John
Composer(s): Elton John, Bernie Taupin

Lyric:
Sling your hook in with him, baby
He's a real sharp-shooter now
If he's out there hiding in the tall grass
Tell him I said, he was a coward

This ain't any old western, honey
It's the twentieth century now
But if he thinks he's some kind of tough cowboy
And he's hurt her then I want to know, how?

Did he shoot her with his compromise?
Like a heart attack, he can paralyse
Or did he hang her in a noose?
On the telephone line

Did he shoot her with a 45?
Did he leave his mark right between her eyes?
Oh, did he shoot that girl?
That used to be mine

Tell him I'm ready any time he chooses
The pay-off for the things, for the things he's done
He ain't messing with no two bit bandit
Armed with a couple of guns

If he wants to see it as a two reel movie
He's living in the head of someone else
But better take him down and dust him, honey
I want to hear the truth for myself

Did he shoot her with his compromise?
Like a heart attack, he can paralyse
Or did he hang her in a noose?
On the telephone line

Did he shoot her with a 45?
Did he leave his mark right between her eyes?
Oh, did he shoot that girl?
That used to be mine

Did he shoot her with his compromise?
Like a heart attack, he can paralyse
Or did he hang her in a noose?
On the telephone line

Did he shoot her with a 45?
Did he leave his mark right between her eyes?
Oh, did he shoot that girl?
That used to be mine

Did he shoot her?
Did he shoot her?

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1a61f72c05931272b99c650944f09cb5