To all the ladies in the house!
All the ladies in the house!
All the ladies in the house!
All the ladies in the house!
All the pretty ladies in the house!
Uh, let me turn the beat up a
Now, but listen, deaf dude.
Uh, I'm just a traveling man,
The Rolling Stone with the poet poems
Lift through a pair of head
My rap sheet smelling like Folgers
Lift it when I walk through the rain
Same for where I lay the demons
Sev en deadly pens I write till
Blessed with selective vision
All I see is where to begin
I'm in the wind, tracing my sin
Digital folders, fills to the brim with
Club phone, portable lines,
straight from the novelist
I've been writing in my phone
while no book is probably watching us
I must've waited too long
Mixing up the time zones,
but I lose track of my days,
I'm losing track of my days,
I must've waited too long
Mixing up the time zones,
but I lose track of my days,
I'm losing track of my days,
Uh, yo check it, second verse open a
dimension where I can fit in
The rain in Seattle feels tactical,
I'm leaving this afternoon,
too used to sleeping in cars
The genius is still at large,
I don't rest my eyes today
in pursuit of better tomorrows
They'll never miss your call
in seeking approval from bosses
The victory flawless MC's
until it drip through their coffin
but still see the light through the dark
You're checkin' into the States,
The water's toxic, build us a wall,
my spirit among the broken
highs the way that I should
the curse of the road trip
Wheel spinnin', this vibe I'm on
I still lie to travelin' man,
Mixin' up the time zones,
but I lose track of my days
I'm losin' track of my days
I'm phonin' home, what, what, ayo
I must've waited too long
I'm mixing up the time zones,
but I lose track of my days
I'm losing track of my days
Burt over your secondary Iron
How does that bad guy that
I am not some common criminal
that can be distracted by your prattling.
and your pathetic attempts to
amount to exactly less than nothing.
So please, stop embarrassing yourself.
