a golden age, I pray for my sanity Where we don't have to answer to anyone about anything This is not like the brochure, flying cars and sex machines We
first glass Up in this bitch and we lit up like a screen Every time we hit the charts, niggas shoot up like a fiend Stuntin' like we printin' money with machines
we get married just to say we fucking did it And girl, I'm fucking serious, I'm with it if you with it 'Cause your verses turn me on, and your pants are
left Moving to the right Big generator Moving through the night We are the voices of the big generator Moving through the night Moving Flying out the soft machine, we
they know that Maybe we'll change Offered the chance To finally unlearn our lessons And alter our stance Machine, Machine Messiah Take me into the fire Hold me, Machine
ship, How they brutalize the very souls. Today they say that we are free, Only to be chained in poverty. Good God, I think it's illiteracy; It's only a machine
e-very-body, Come on over cuz we having a party, We lighting up the sky with a burning star, Throw your hands in the air if you know who you are, Kuz we
other cause that's how we haffi do We ain't talking to you or we ain't dealing with a likkle interview WHEY!! Big up to Mr. Hakim We controlling the
't understand Yeah, tough road but you start slow And before you know it, you're not alone Looking for a place called home anywhere Oh Indiana Those big dreams are flying machines
If you ain't got no money take your broke self home G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S, yeah G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S We flyin' first class up in the sky We flyin' first class
Are you ready? If you ain't got no money take your broke ass home If you ain't got no money take your broke ass home G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S, yeah G-L-A-M-
I know these rails we're on like I know my lady's smile, We see a dozen dreams in every passing mile. Can't begin to count the trips she and I have made
I know these rails we're on, like I know my lady's smile We see a dozen dreams in every passing mile Can't begin to count the trips that she and I have
death trap, it's a suicide rap We gotta get out while we're young `Cause tramps like us, baby we were born to run yes, girl we were Wendy let me
, not too bold When it's just right and you have sunlight Then we're home, finally home Home in the land of the homeless, finally home Oh, what are we
are you gonna do? I'm never Late Late Late What are we gonna do? What are we gonna do? What are we What are we What are we What are we gonna do? Late
Fly like the eagle Fly like the eagle Fly... Squeegee Ah, you got it When we get down to the shrink-wrap on my grave You know the nitty-gritty never
in em' Yo, we'll punch your jeans, we've said it before Best believe, this is not a metaphor Better watch your back, 'cause we're on the creep And we