Yeah, no, no, no With no chains I could run free With no pain, I'd be happy With no cash, I could borrow With no direction, I could follow But with no
mister Yeogil jom bwabwa mister Geurae baro na mister Naeapeuro ga mister (La la la la la la) Hey yeogi mister Ijen nal bwaba mister Hancham baraesseo mister Ireumi mwoya mister Hey geogi geogi mister Yeogil jom bwabwa mister Nuneul matchwobwa mister Sujubeo malgo mister
If I?m #home #suite or #honeymoon in a glass room My jealousy threw stones to it I press my head against a star To light up my thoughts or wish upon
Spoken intro: Hey guess whos come to town It's Mister x and he's looking for foxes And when he find that fox He's gonna have him
the Army, Mister Jones No private rooms or telephones You had your breakfast in bed before But you won't have it there any more This is the Army, Mister
shows the blind man the way to mystery bay then a dream will come true for the sad and the blue so recall - come what may - the lonely road to mystery bay
, too, for havin you Haven't you been introduced to a douche I guess you said fuck footloose, and got pussyloose No juice, you shoulda dried up, like a prune-a Mister
Let's sail away past the noise of the bay Let's sail away past the birth and death of the day Let's sail away to where the blues And greens swirl into
the reign, or the occasional pain From a man like me, who goes against the grain Sometimes I do it in vain, so with a little bass and treble Hey Mister
blown I be the sick lunatic with the devilish poem From the mists of the darkness I come with this Hittin straight, to the chest, like a primatene mist
paper stacks See pockets full of dollars already stacked Strong gangsta leaning sideways Today ain't Friday, ten it is and today is my day Take it from Mister
them paper stacks See pockets full of dollars Already stacked strong gangsta leaning sideways Today ain't Friday, ten it is and today is my day Take it from mister
Rhythm and Lower Level I say (what?) peace To the Ansaars and Chicagods (what?) peace To Dr. York and Abdul Mallik I say (what?) peace To Bobby Price and my man Bay Bay
whippin yay, getting my gwopalay So you put my Gouda my pay, when I get in my way From da Bay to L.A. to the A this nigga connected Worldwide nigga this mister
Here comes the mechanical sun Working on the bones in the dry old creek bed Mist on the old river bend, yellow box hangs like it's dead The emerald silo
Eight-track machine playing 'Half Moon Bay' Drivin' in my Volks down on Hamstead Way Her mother got bust on a 88 And her brother got stuck on my number