shit Y'nah I mean? It's real motherfuckin' shit, you know Yo, making moves back and forth uptown 60 dollars plus toll is the cab fee Wintertime bubble goose, goose, clouds of smoke Music
the guns they usin', not close to the most of them Quarter rolls, microphones, one, two, revolution Sons due, evolution, in a rhyme, ghetto music In the
hello to Mrs. Profyle Now we're dancing slow, busting everlasting romance Music starts getting too loud we can lose this crowd Find a way in some exotic place Can you hear the sound of wedding
ought to give me wedding rings And I I love it when you give me things And you You ought to give me wedding rings You ought to give me wedding rings
You're uptown tonight where all the bright lights glow Where all the honky tonks with wine and music flow And I've been walking with these blues since
with this ring But if I wasn't Tech N9ne Bitches wouldn't even wanna be with Tech N9ne If I did no music, then would you respect mine This wedding band and music
't you love me? for bein me but ill never know so ill never let my feelings grow [underrated] When i was growing up young; i didn't have no girl. the music
It was a teenage wedding And the old folks wished them well You could see that Pierre Did truly love that mademoiselle Now the young monsieur and madame
his fat side To think that his niece would be a bride Then he said: where will the wedding breakfast be? Oh, where will the wedding breakfast be? Where will the wedding
There was a pool table there at the wedding That most of the men stood and played Whilst the women danced in their melancholy Till the last song started
I did before love came to town Used to find love under a red sunset I was making promises I was soon to forget I was as pale as the lace on my wedding
the polka dots, put Guame on your forehead. Yeah, it's the new king of everything, and bitches don't say no to me, I'm like a wedding ring. Maybe it'
move Music's a wild thing whatever the groove Some music isn't for dancing One dance whose steps I never could learn It's called 'The wedding march'
It was a rock and roll wedding, Held down at a rock and roll shack, Well the groom wore boots and leather, Let me tell you that the bride she wore black
niece would be a bride. When Uncle Rat gave his consent The weasel wrote the publishment. Where will the wedding supper be? Way down yonder in a holler tree. What will the wedding