Drugs-N-Alkahol, baby, ahh Uhh, mm, that's funky, ohh Huh, I'm Mr. What the fuck you lookin' at I'm Mr. Quick to run and get the gat Treat you like the
the time alone 'Cuz all the wrong people have the power of suggestion And the freedom of the press is meaningless If nobody asks a question, I mean, causation by definition Is such a complex
take, is all about the rules It's hard for you to breathe like you at high altitude So crack the Patron, it's on heathens, The God's back Hard body, Mr
Taught me the basic survival tools Auntie Cathy, every summer kept me in vacation Bible school Mr. Diskin for more than passin' grades And my fourth grade teacher Mr
It's just another Saturday night Livin' in the 90's With Mr. Almost, not Mr. Right Tell me Where is the moonlight And champagne and roses? God knows,
Music: Frank Wildhorn Lyrics: Jack Murphy It's just another Saturday night livin' in the 90's with Mr. Almost, not Mr. Right tell me... where is the
M E S Full of finesse, lyrically complex And I'm the double L, C dash O, dash O, L Period J my leers waiting on the runway, bust Yo, aeiyo, yo, I'm Mr
his brother No more place in the picture book And he gives me complexes Because he's considered a songwriter And I'm not at this time When Mr. Davis
I wear a pair of thighs like some mothafuckin' ear muffs Lick it up Because I gets to the point Sit back, relax, and smoke a fuckin' joint More complex
. You just can't join, you know. It needs an atmosphere where your natural bastardness can grow and develop and take a meaningful shape in today's complex
wet, a pair of wet, a pair of wet jeans You don't understand but your girl knows what I mean So I kicks my rhymes kind of complex A text of intricate
put my bed in (My bed in) For real thats no kiddin' (Nope) Complex fantasy, thoughts are forbidden Just save those playful thoughts for the children (Yeah) Six John, Mr
all gone All the nights of constant run, if you're the one, well now you're bombed Sail on, Mr. Dumb One, you got a shot gun, hit the marksmen Complex
acres, the houses, yeah, the horses Of course, it's much greater than your Benx or your Lex The engine to my comprehension is just too complex Much too complex
WHO'S TALKING NOW LOOK WHO'S TALKING COMON COMON LOOK WHO'S TALKING SHUT YOUR MOUTH ME KNOW A POP STAR WE CALL HIM MR X HE HAS A VERY VERY COMPLEX ATTITUDE
There's a reason why I'm seasoned My folks out there in the ghetto The slums, the projects and the beat down Renovated apartment complexes Smell me
barrow (bass, vocals) Ed mann (percussion) Vinnie colaiuta (drums) Arriving at l. ron hoover's modernistic office / cathedral / warehouse / condominium complex
right here... Where does the pollen go? Mr. Stuart: Next chapter, In an abstract way, the same thing applies To the reproductive organs of the more complex