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Исполнитель: Everlast
Название песни: Praise The Lord
Текст песни добавил: AnGeL_VapLaty
1155 просмотров с 2009-01-23 19:47:43
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Everlast - Praise The Lord текст песни, lyrics

You know it's Whitey 
And the Likwits 
I say it's Whitey 
And the Likwits 
You know it's Whitey 
And the Likwits 

Watch me rock these sounds 
From the polo grounds 
To the sunset strip 
Like an acid trip 
I'll flash it back on ya 
Run it up on ya 
I was born in Hempstead live 
Raised in California 
Mr. Entreprenuer 
I rock the shot that's sure 
I need a dime plus more 
I sip the fine liquor 
I want the cash in hand 
Snd the beach front land 
And I get loco 
From Acolpoco to Japan 
Mr. Whitey Ford gets terrain explored 
You perpetrate that Ford 
You must be out of your gourd 
It's time to make like Greg Nice, kid 
And praise the Lord 
Keep the faith 
Smoke an eighth 
Until you stack the papers all up in my safe 
Commence the motivate 
Consume an altered state 
I'm killin' your whole wack show 
Like I'm Edgar Allan Poe 
With the psychotic thriller 
No peckerwood iller 
Than this freckled-face man 
With the farmer's tan 
If I can't bomb on you 
I'm bombin' on your man 

CHORUS 
Some get the shit, sugar, some get the stains 
Some get the muscles, baby, some get the brains 
Some get the powers, love, some get the papers 
Some catch the vibes and some catch the vapors 
Better... 
Praise the Lord keep keep the faith (X4) 

I say roll to the rock 
Rock to the roll 
Whitey Ford brings the devastatin' mic control 
Like Derryl McDaniel 
A hundred G's venue 
The tip's get clocked, baby 
The bond's get stocked 
My style gets rocked 
Just like doors get knocked 
With legendary status 
Like my name's Lou Brock 
And my lazairre sounds 
Be shakin' the grounds 
Huntin' down crews 
Like packs of bloodhounds 
Snatchin' off crowns 
And meltin' 'em down 
I once was lost, see 
But now I'm found 
Amazing grace 
How sweet the sound 
And when the saints come marchin' in (keep the faith) 
I'm messin' alpine white 
Classic rapper's delight 
All these shorties pullin' tools 
'Cause they know they can't fight 
I bank my selections on worldwide connections 
So get the seven digits, baby 
Never burn your britches 

CHORUS (X2) 
Some get the shit, sugar, some get the stains 
Some get the muscles, baby, some get the brains 
Some get the powers, love, some get the papers 
Some catch the vibes and some catch the vapors 
Better... 
Praise the Lord keep keep the faith (X6)

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