Vertaling: Drie Dog Night. Is dit nie dat baie van die Liefde.
. Ain't that a lotta love Ain't that a lotta love for one heart to hold. Ain't that a lotta love Ain't that a lotta love Ain't that a lotta love Ain'
fucked her Claimed that I stuck her the cable man Was puttin' in time so it ain't mine A lot of bitches was waitin' on my name It ain't no thang because
I said at nine, he killin' time And he ain't checked the time on his wrist He probably somewhere lying to a chick Talkin' 'bout he rich, no, it ain't
mouth and jangling jester's cap I'm sorry I ever wrote that book I'm sorry for the way I look But there ain't a lot that I can do about that I'm sorry
a ?them' La vie boheme La vie boheme Hey mister, she's my sister So that's five miso soup Four seaweed salad Three soy burger dinner Two tofu dog platter
know what I wanna do Nothing I could find You know that mine and it's mine Ain't nothing but love, and ain't a damn thang changed Ain't nothing in the
Paz] 1988, pops died, middle of the night Forty-six years old, middle of his life My mother ain't have a job, poppy was on his grind And we ain't got
the end A bitch is a bitch, but a dog is a man's best friend So what you found a hoe that you like But you can't make a hoe a housewife Now there's
cars, fuck a bike 'Cause I don't ride 'cause I don't like It's 3 T's and fuck nights (So serious) Well, I got a bike and that bitch on chrome With a
mouth and give yo bitch a perm wit that Keep shellz in the envelopes 'cause I'll mail out bullets More blood that a riot on a jailhouse footage Buck
, there's a disease With your name all over it, pal! There ain't no Babe Ruth disease, I'll tell you that much right now Have a hot dog and a Hummer,
Bullets traveled a lot slower and you ran a lot faster But they don't and you can't so don't think about after 'Cause tomorrow ain't comin', so stop
bout I said at nine, he killin' time And he ain't checked the time on his wrist He probably somewhere lying to a chick Talkin' 'bout he rich, no, it ain't
Vinnie Paz] 1988, pops died, middle of the night Forty-six years old, middle of his life My mother ain't have a job, poppy was on his grind And we ain't