a bruised heart And I remember Tossing with tears, cause the sleep's hard If you remember That face smell on a pillow cover is not the smell of love anymore That's
make her say Oh, oh-oh-oh Oh, oh-oh-oh When I P-p-p-poker face P-p-poke her face I make her say Oh, oh-oh-oh Oh, oh-oh-oh What up P-p-p-poker face P-p
's John Quincy Adams was number six And it's Andrew Jackson's butt he kicks So Jackson learns to play politics Next time he's the one that the country
beat drop O-o-oh my, o-o-oh my my my my my my Oh my gosh O-o-oh my, o-o-oh my my my my my my Oh my gosh O-o-oh my, o-o-oh my my my my my my Oh my gosh
M I A, Dom P, palm trees, 9O degrees Arm freeze, ma please, ain't nuthin' but cheese Caribbean seas, Malibu breeze Watchin' DVDs on 5O inch screens
see I don't know what, they want from me It's like the more money we come across The more problems we see Uh, uh, B.I.G., P O P P A No info, for the
drive The judge said, "Not guilty" and he ain't lie Niggas need a hit it's to me they cry So why front like nigga P-D ain't live See that Bad Boy on
the spanish n) translation: You know well it was a lie what you did to me was a sin that's the way you betrayed me.... Verse One: Puff Daddy Honey
mill, c'mon now [Chorus] [P. Diddy] Let's work (huh yeah), let's work Let's work (huh yeah), let's work Show me your soul! c'mon now! Show me your soul
bwoyy, somma'bitches [P. Diddy] Somma'bitches!!! [Chorus & Outro: P. Diddy] (I want that) Take that!!! Come on!!! Special delivery!!! (I need that) Special delivery!!! (Can I have that
And out of towners get got like everyday And a gangsta's a gangsta in every way Sittin on twenty-two's, that's what long money do Now the Don's on it,
One, one, two Check me out, right here, yo Yo, the sun don't shine forever (You can turn the track up a little bit for me) But as long as it's here then
if any one of my men's die We've been fucked somebody told us a Bent lie (What?) Let's get back to the spot in N.Y. Seven glocks P S P O pops Hit both
down O.G.'s raised me, baby G's praise me Since I'm a G, rep 3 'til I'm swazy Y'all cats fugazi, my shit's crazy Niggas can't faze me (You can't take)
's go, oh, oh, let's go Tonight, we're going hard, hard, h-h-hard Just like the world is ours, ours, o-o-ours We're tearing it apart, part, p-p-part
Cornice Took a look inside And what did they see Two keys and a gallon of P.C.P Oh shit, the thought crashed Mitch's subliminal Three strikes, that's
and a right fist They can get a smack for that Yeah, yeah On and on, to the funk track Back glass shakin' like shit, that's where the trunk's at That's 'cause my shit's made for, niggas that
