There's so many things that we miss in our everyday lives We're so busy hustling, bustling chasing far away dreams We forget the little things Like blue
Oversettelse: Lam. Little Things.
the Hilton up on Cortland One from Utah, the other one from Portland We in Cali though, but I am from New Orleans I can't lie, I lust for things Like
my dick Attempted murder dick, for ways I choke chicks Spit it in her eye make it hard to focus Killer Mike gonna calm down, things gonna get a little
? With the faith of titans with your beauty enlighten us Mama said it's a cruel world and I still can't believe Some of them things that I've seen with
little miss Mary Mack had buttons all down her back she let Geordie loosen them up and now her belly's fat now mary's little lamb follows her wherever
up on me and sing this song Sing this song, sing this song Sing this song, sing this song It went a little something like Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb
a little baby Lying there alone on my pillow casing Upset already I could feel the aging The urge to return was debilitating And maybe I'm still afraid and need to Cry a little
high school to bare ain't no money to be made Mary had a little lamb and her fleece was white as snow But I'm Hannibal Lector I silence the lamb while
hot glocks That's how I got the weed spot I shot dread in the head, took the bread and the lamb spread Little Gotti got the shotty to your body So don
man like a baby A trifle, some cuddle, some toys Beneath all that's wagger and bluster He's nothing but a little old boy And when you want some little
king Let's make him Lord of all Let's give him everything Let's make a baby king Now, you remember little King David He's the little baby's kin He's
' them Oh, and the sap The trees are starting to turn And the little lamb Oh, and the little lamb Oh, and the little lamb Is in the air Is in the air
you wake, you shall have All the pretty little horses Way down yonder in the meadow Lies a poor little lamb ye Bees and butterflies pickin' out its eyes Poor little thing
muscle I keep for myself is pretend I am the wanderer's wandering daughter Travel the land and I live like a martyr The things that I do aren't the things
Just because my skin is brown It don't define who I am I could be a porcupine Or I could be a little lamb Please don't try and judge me Only by the colors
hot glocks That's how I got the weed spot I shot dread in the head, took the bread and the lamb spread Little gotti got the shotty to your body So don
