starting to Cry Cry I almost made it I said what I had to say and she knows I hate it cuz it makes me want to stay When she Cry Cry Cry Cry Cry I made
I'm sorry), I won't break your heart no more (Cry), won't break your heart no more (Cry), so baby I might cry, I might cry, I just might cry, (oh, o oh
Think She Startin To Cry I Almost Made It I Said What I Had To Say And She Know I Hate It Cuz It Makes Me What To Stay When She Cry Cry Cry Cry Cry I
Vertaling: Tank. Huil.
feet, 'cuz I know you want me Can't remember anything Her skin it tastes like sugar cane And I had already gotten there before I came My tank is empty
home (Let her know), & I don't want it to end like this becuz I know that [Bridge 1:] [Tank:] It aint worth telling a lie, It aint worth seeing u cry
had to leave my life in Dallas That town will always be you In every crowd, on every corner In every face I'd see you So with nothin' more than a tank
is having no choice in the matter Lord I cry (I cry) From the things I've seen (That I've seen) And Lord I cry (I cry) From the things I've seen (Ooh
Petey here I wanna tell I'm dead broke and I'm 'bout to go crazy Half a tank of gas, two cigarettes Scrapping up change in the ashtray Then the voices
You'd better stop listening to them other girls Never cared about those other girls It's something about the way you rock my world Even though you make me cry
you like I do Wake you up, in the night tank and surprise you Cross my heart, swear, put my hand on the bible I'm not a cold blooded killa, baby, I cry
relationship has to start You're the one that I'm clockin', stop or you could stop mockin' Don't want you to see me cry, this is why, this is why, this
screamin' how was I to know I'm in the middle of nowhere Near the end of the line But there's a border to somewhere waiting And there's a tankful
thugs, and rapper-dons Get in that ass, quick fast like ramadan It's that rap phenomenon Don-Dadda, fuck Poppa You got ta, call me, Francis M.H. White In tank
time (the weight of my life) weight of my life [x4] [Violent J] You need a fucking hitman who the shit with a quick plan? a shoulder to cry on, get
and it ain't hopping Got me tipping to hear them things Popping cash bags dropping With plenty of cane for recopping Opportunity knocking it's what I'm on I cry
report to the orgy But it's more to the story, her daughter applaud me We in a zone, our soldiers like to stand by Never alone, we 'bout to make the Jones cry
