a ting who a don from donkey Well Buju Banton write unoo fi stop from fight And just chat lyrics whole night So when da song ya play unoo fi shout hooray Chorus Hair style well di story
i see it in your eyes. they're the window to your soul. and we all know this is our last chance to overthrow the king and all his men, so we can see the
It's so hard to explain Like the feeling of the wind when it hits you Expected and possibly connected To everything around you But now it's so hard
We've got some time to kill Before we're found out Everyone's watching Everyone's waiting For us to wake up For us to give up and fall We've broken
Does the sky have stars to spare Because I can't stand to stare At something so distant A dream so close It seems, just reach out and pull one down
We're not afraid, just calm, collected and underestimated This feeling in my gut has told me everything i want to know I know i'm not the boy i used
Allow me to orchestrate All the feelings to demonstrate How this night affects my memory and my voice And if I am going slow enough Can you comprehend
His story over mine His story will be his story and My story is a waste of time They're gonna belive His story over mine His story will be his story And
his fate He loved his game, put his pride in his flag Named most unlikely to succeed in his class Got to get that cash, was his first priority So he robbed
limit to afford To give her things he knew she wanted Cause without her where would he be You see him it's not for him She is his only need Ring on
take this situation in which I'm placed in And get up and get my own I was never the type of kid To wait by the door and pack his bags I sat on the
dick inside this life until that bitch came I went hard all fall like the ball teams Just so I can make it rain all spring Yall seen my story my glory
?s tight ill, plus I get slight chills when I write wills Tired of looking at these ugly niggaz with ice grills No telling what I might feel about my glory Two sides to every story
tight ill, plus I get slight chills when I write wills. Tired of looking at these ugly niggaz with ice grills. No telling what I might feel about my glory. Two sides to every story
bull pen Make that a fine, no If you don't like my bullets, to hell if he ain't fashion L.A. looters, throw your mask on Gambini got his mash on and
Or is it the same nightmares We let the doves do it for us We don't cry tears, that's right Real niggaz don't budge When mail man got his time He shot