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Stalley - Ohio Album Lyrics



Stalley - Ohio Lyrics






Welcome To O.H.I.O.

Ohio (Ohio)
Hahaha

Over here I'm original
You can put your money on me I'm about to go digital
Just watch me turn nothing into something keep it jumpin' y'all don't hear me though
Music try a young nigga, like a nigga was invicible
Now I'm feeling invicible
'Cuz over here I'm original (put your money on me)
You can put your money on me I'm about to go digital (put your money on me)
The speakers ain't the only thing loud, niggas smoking on medicinal (put your money on me)
Catch me going down on the cloud back a mile that's [?]
(put your money on me)
Got me feeling invicible
'Cuz over here I'm original
Two one six, six one four, nigga that's my shit
Five one three, four one nine, my Nati and Toldeo niggas on they grind
I'm a four four O, nine three seven and this seven four O rollin' seven eleven
I'm in that 330, 330 (330)
I'm in that 330, cuz over here I'm original
Two one six, six one four, nigga that's my shit
Five one three, four one nine, my natti [?] niggas on my grind
I'm original
(You can put your money on me) you can put your money me
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: AUTHOR UNKNOWN COMPOSER, BRANDON HODGERS, KYLE MYRICKS, MARIO PIZZINI, RASHAD THOMAS
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.







Jackin Chevys

[Intro:]
We jackin' Chevys [x4]
Chevy jackin', Chevy jackin', we jakin' Chevys [x2]
We jackin' Chevys
Jack, jackin' Chevys

[Hook:]
Parking lot, full of cars
It was yours, now its ours
We jackin' Chevys [x4]

[Verse 1:]
Cruising down the street in your 64
Banging your beats, shining your gold
Went to the store for gas and brews
Then pulled up to the park where they shooting some hoops
A car pulls up, who could it be
My nigga KP in the 20 AZ
Rolled down the window, where'd you get that from
Code snatch him out his ride with this new hand gun
I swear them boys in my hood are always hard
Come flossing around, they'll take your car
See around these parts, Chevy jacking is law
And what's mine is mine and what's yours is ours

[Hook]

[Verse 2:]
While you was up at Foxborough thinking about girls
I was round the way on Lincoln way on boulevard swirls
Traveling out to Canton with the beats in the trunk
With six switches in the floor to make that ass jump
To make that ass jump, 6 switches in the floor to make that ass jump
We make that ass jump, with 6 switches in the floor to make that ass jump
This for the Chevy rollers who love them heavy motors
Cranking steering wheel columns on Monte Carlos and Novas
Taking 12 on a chase, they never gon pull us over
The streets have been taking over, we ride till we burn the motors
Cutting corners with my guys
Five rides, five bowties
Crash those, take more rides
From big trucks, to the low rides

[Hook]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: AUTHOR UNKNOWN COMPOSER, KYLE MYRICKS
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc., BMG Rights Management







Problems

[Hook:]
A nigga got problems
Sittin' here, plottin' how to count a million dollars
I need houses and garages
Got baby mama drama, get my mama out the projects

Ain't got too many options
So I'ma take one, double back and make a profit
I need houses and garages
Got baby mama drama, get my mama out the projects

[Verse 1:]
I gotta get my mama out the projects
So it's llamas in the projects
A nigga out here starving
This rap better work, I'm playing niggas in that garden
I came from that fridge with empty crates and milk cartons
Barely achin', walking with a 9
Should I shoot him down or just rob a nigga blind
Only head shots, never catch him in his spine
That's what my block taught me, it's a kill every time
That's just the mind of a kid trying to free his mom
Out that two bedroom with five kids
Malnourished, ribs touching, man this poverty a bitch
So we slanging dope, ducking pigs, posted with them sticks
Welcome to Ohio, where we hustle to live
So it's factory work
Or we busting down and breaking if that ain't gon' work
Then we run in your crib, cig smoking like Wiz
One move, bump bump, put two in your wig
Grandma pray for our sins, hoping God forgives
But today is pay day, and all this broke ish gon' end
I swear all this broke ish gon' end

[Hook]

[Verse 2:]
My baby on her last Pamper
And her mama on my last nerve
And I just lost my sneaker gig
So you know it's back to the curb
My cousin got a bird, said he front me quarter key
Told him, "gimme a week, I'll be where I need to be"
Now I'm penitentiary chancing on the block with my G's
Trying to clock G's to feed my family
And I don't wanna do it but I'm in a tight squeeze
Left hand full of stones, right hand got a tight squeeze
On this hammer case a nigga try me
Cops casing the block trying to lock me
It's hard here, nightmares
'Cause I don't want my kids to grow up here
But it feels like a trap, all I do is trap here
Everyday we hoping fences, dipping on twelve
It's like we running track here
But I gotta get this pack clear
Survival is the key
Big ass crib with garages is the dream
Ba-balancing flows, to balancing triple beams
'Cause I ain't never been a problem
But something's gotta give
'Cause a nigga got problems

[Hook]

[Outro:]
Blue collar, blue, blue collar [x8]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: CHRISTOPHER THORNTON, DIONDRIA THOMAS, LARRY GRIFFIN
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc., BMG Rights Management







Boomin

[Intro - Stalley:]
All the way from the South East Side
To the North West Side..
You already know. (Haha!)
Here I am
We all love 77'
Milk City!
O.H.I.O!
The whole Midwest

[Hook - Stalley & (Sample):]
(Boomin) [x7]
Mutherf*ck the police
I'm steady boomin' in the projects
[x2]

[Verse 1 - Stalley:]
Them junkies keep on coming back & forth, cause they getting sprung
Taste of my dope, yeah it's real, got they tounge numb
When I was 15, going on 16, I was broke as hell
Hanging in the view, you know I had to find some work to sell
Call my brother Yella, he was deep up in the dope game
Asked him for a sack and he was acting real lame
Started with a 16, turn that to a mixtape
Boomin' in these cars, (ha-ha) I got my own bass
So, boom! I'm bunkin. Been getting it since the 90's
Pull up in the hood, hopping out, kissing babies
Now I got the Monte, I'mma get me a Mercedes
And I put that on the Milk, kinda like a missing baby
I'm shining. I'm Gliding. I'm pushing off through Massillon
Getting to this money so its calculated trafficking
Feds steady trying to build a case, but they can't solve it
So f*ck the police, I'm steady boomin' in them projects

[Hook]

[Verse 2 - Stalley:]
I finally got my 'Cedes gold Rollie, and my grill up
Watch me hit the block, you can see the money build up
From the PJ's, on the PJ's with the wheels up
You ain't gotta feel us, we get it how we live, bruh
Started me a label, BCG, blue collar gang
Midwest hustler, do my thing, let my nuts hang
24 hour pharmacy, like a Walgreens
Hustle like a ball team, yeah til' we all clean
Hip-Hop police are on me, they think its more than rap
Used to run the trap, slinging packs, now we running rap
D-Boy selling D, DJ run it back, this the anthem
Marching on the block, till' the bands come
Task Force tried to sweep us out like a sandstorm
Still found a bed full of money I can land on
Didn't do the crack, but this rap got me living large
So, f*ck the police, I'm steady boomin' in them projects

[Hook]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: AUTHOR UNKNOWN COMPOSER, DERRICK HILL, KYLE MYRICKS, NORMAN VIRGIL WHITESIDE
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.







What It Be Like

[Hook - Stalley:]
What it be like?
Niggas ain't fly like me like
All this yellow on my neck Chuck E. Cheese bright
Candy Jack, could you please stuff my peace pipe?

What it be like?
If a nigga act up, got the piece right
On the small of my back tucked for these nights
Speeding through the city under street lights

[Verse 1 - Stalley:]
What it be like?
Michael Jordan 3's or the three stripes
Got your hatin' ass niggas in police lights
Only mess with OG's, hoes be the freak type
Only shoot craps, don't do the three dice
And we Vegas, Mayweather ring side
Got 100K large in my Levi's
Stay with the paper like a nigga slanging bean pies
How you do that? Well it's easy though
I just let them watch like a TV show
And it's [?] with me and she speaking fo'
And it's [?], drag it down to the flo'
I'm a pimp, yeah I speak the code
I be highed up but I keep it low
Profound, profound tires on the Beamer yo
Dope boy, dope style, no miles on his ho

[Hook - Stalley]

[Verse 2 - Stalley:]
What it be like?
BCG, we supreme team like
All these other fake crews get the green light
Life's a dream, stack my cream to Akeem height
Chunks of gold on my neck, so Akeem like
Rose petals when I step, live the king life, sweet life
If a nigga trying to stop it, then I swing knife
Left, right, put him at a halt like a stop light
Matter fact, stop life
Trying to touch what I'm earning
Then I'm clutching the burner and I'ma pop mine
I got my team on my neck, it's loyalty and respect
See, I'm bout mine
Outwork a nigga till it's clock time
Get yours, don't clock mine
I'm at the jeweller, all gold, clock bomb
But the prettiest watch can't even stop time

[Hook - Stalley]

[Verse 3 - Nipsey Hussle:]
What it see like?
Live from the city of the three strikes
Offer terrible advice but it seem right
When you're sticking to the script, f*ck a rewrite (right)
What it see like?
Pick a tail, shoot a box, catch a chief flight
He got married to the game, he don't need rice
Sold his soul to the streets, he don't need Christ (right, right)
But what it see like?
All these rats in this race for a cheese slice
Need to pass on the safe for at least like
Six digits and his niggas ain't gon' eat right (right, right)
But what it see like?
Flat broke, got him feeling he don't need life
Split screen, to the left is police lights
To the right, visualizing his dream life (right, right)
What it see like?
He gon' have to be willing to leave life
Half his blood on the cross like he Jes' Christ
All the love that he lost, that's a cheap price (right, right)
But what it see like?
Niggas can't shine like these lights
'Cause niggas ain't grind like [?] right
But shit ain't even always what it seem, right?

[Hook - Stalley]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: ALEX BROFSKY, DAVID L DOMAN, ERMIAS JOSEPH ASGHEDOM, KYLE MYRICKS, MATT BECK
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., MISSING LINK MUSIC







One More Shot

[Hook - August Alsina:]
Take one more shot for the liquor, a little more liquor
And we on that bullshit
Yeah, one more shot for the liquor, just a little more liquor
Shot after shot, now we got a full clip
Got my G's right, yeah my G's right
Keep sipping like it's 4 tonight
Got money power respect, the keys in life
If you're free tonight, yeah my keys are right here
Take one more shot for the liquor, just a little more liquor
Shot, shot

[Verse 1 - Stalley:]
Ohio state, great kicks, hottest nigga on the block
Take another shot, now we on our bullshit
Need a couple bottles to the VIP
And 6 more shots if we through then we on a full clip
Party over here, party next door
Party on the dance floor, damn little shawty too thick
Took her from a ball player, wasn't playing ball
I ain't really get involved, I ain't give two shits
Ladies everywhere, kush in the air, already lit two spliffs
She don't even smoke like that, got her faded back off two hits
And the club full throttle while you babysitting bottles, ain't take two sips
She know what it is, I ain't gotta place a bid
All you gotta let me know is when you're ready to dip
But first...

[Hook]

[Verse 2 - Stalley:]
Marijuana still lit, hottest label in the game
Sitting on my chain, I ain't gotta prove it
Ciroc shots, black bottle Belaire
Fresher than the Fresh Prince, hell yeah boy I do this
We just tryna party, I ain't tryna hurt nobody
But my nigga got the hammer on him like a tool kit
And girl I got the keys whenever you wanna leave
Old school in the lot looking like a new whip
First you wanna pic for the 'Gram, damn
Paws gon' be on me like I gotta new chick
Twisting in the club going HAM
Shawty's so bad I done took two flicks
Bunch of bad women in the club
Something bout you girl it's just too slick
Take another shot just because
A nigga feeling buzzed, I ain't tryna lose it

[Hook]

[Verse 3 - Rick Ross:]
Parking lot and my top down
Never turning my 'Pac down
Me against the world and a bag of weed
Couple real niggas repping that BCG
Black bottle, my game plan
VIP like Gangland
My new bitch, she look Asian
And these hating ass niggas ain't phasing
Fly nigga, Ricky [?]
Fly with me shawty, come see the world
Wake up everyday to connect the dots
My homie making rounds fresh out the box
And my new spot bigger than the Fox
Speaking outta [?] all the bad bitches meet us
Extra deluxe, tryna keep your feet up
All black Visa, buying out the bar


[Hook]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: AUGUST ANTHONY ALSINA, NOEL CADASTRE, DANIEL ANTHONY BEAUCLERC DALEY, KYLE ALFONSO MYRICKS, DON CARLOS PRICE, WILLIAM LEONARD II ROBERTS
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group







Always Into Something

[Hook - Ty Dolla $ign:]
100 miles and runnin'
Always into something
Yelling f*ck the police
Like I'm straight up out of Compton
Real niggas don't die
Appetite for destruction
Just a nigga with an attitude
Always into something

[Verse 1 - Stalley:]
Impala on eights, dope boys on crates
Swiss movement on watch, 45 on the waist
Got a million dollar hustle, a rich nigga face
White cocaine, rack it up on the plate
Alpina Beamer with the cavalier plates
My niggas dribble down in VA on the run from the DEA
That's when niggas wore button ups and white ups like
H O V A, and everybody had Ye before 808s & Heartbreak
The streets was a shark tank, put money in the gold link
And loyalty was everything
Your lady held you down, with or without a wedding ring
Selling dope wasn't settling
If you could smoke it they was selling it
Hard grind peddling
A street nigga pedigree, tryna leave a kingpin legacy
Pockets fat like Ledisi, thank you to the heavenly
Father for them dollars, I got it straighter than the letter T

[Hook]

[Verse 2 - Stalley:]
Dope man, dope man, that's what they yelling
Pockets full of stones and an automatic weapon
Teenage outlaws, rebels without cause
Lost in this jungle where everybody is flawed
Middle finger to the law, best friends lay in morgues
And they wonder why our attitude's raw
A real nigga never take a fall, that's on god
Or never take on the false façade
Before that happens niggas blocks getting taked off
Appetite for destruction
That's how we all function, and we get it how we live
Even if it's gun busting
Number crunching with 8 balls for fiends luncheon
Anything to keep from ribs touching
Rims bumping, I blame it on Cube
He says it gets funky, a subject and a predicate
F the police, that's a gangster nigga's etiquette
And this nine filled with cop killers that's sitting on my hip

[Hook]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: TYRONE GRIFFIN, MARIO PIZZINI, KYLE MYRICKS, RASHAD THOMAS
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.







System On Loud

[Hook:]
Boom boom, bang bang, system on loud
Got that boom boom, bang bang, system on loud [x3]
Everyday the same thing
I just wanna live

[Verse 1:]
Riding 'round town with my windows tinted out
Boom boom, bang bang, system on loud
Everyday the same thing, drifting on clouds
Got that got that pack of blue dream, twisting up loud
Rolling up by the pound, burning by the mile
Windows cracked, smoke flowing out
Double cup, ack, sprite pouring out
I'm in my zone I'm in my zone (I'm in my zone)
Blunt after blunt tryna keep it gone
Don't want this feeling to escape me, I'm facing bluntscrazy
Seeing clearer than an HD
Colder than the AC, I'm speeding on about eighty
And my eighty-three Mercedes, three eighty SL
Fish-tailing down the eighty screaming F the world
With not a care to give
I don't wanna be judged, I just wanna live
This for the genius loners and all my stoner kids
Who wanna smoke and ride [?]

[Hook 2x + repeated lines till end of song]
Everyday the same thing
Rolling up by the pound, rolling up by the mile
Windows cracked, smoke flowing out (Everyday the same thing)
I don't wanna be judge
You want more?
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: AUTHOR UNKNOWN COMPOSER, JEFFREY KIRKLAND, KYLE MYRICKS
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.







3:30pm

[Hook:]
Boom boom, bang bang, system on loud
Got that boom boom, bang bang, system on loud [x3]
Everyday the same thing
I just wanna live

[Verse 1:]
Riding 'round town with my windows tinted out
Boom boom, bang bang, system on loud
Everyday the same thing, drifting on clouds
Got that got that pack of blue dream, twisting up loud
Rolling up by the pound, burning by the mile
Windows cracked, smoke flowing out
Double cup, ack, sprite pouring out
I'm in my zone I'm in my zone (I'm in my zone)
Blunt after blunt tryna keep it gone
Don't want this feeling to escape me, I'm facing bluntscrazy
Seeing clearer than an HD
Colder than the AC, I'm speeding on about eighty
And my eighty-three Mercedes, three eighty SL
Fish-tailing down the eighty screaming F the world
With not a care to give
I don't wanna be judged, I just wanna live
This for the genius loners and all my stoner kids
Who wanna smoke and ride [?]

[Hook 2x + repeated lines till end of song]
Everyday the same thing
Rolling up by the pound, rolling up by the mile
Windows cracked, smoke flowing out (Everyday the same thing)
I don't wanna be judge
You want more?
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: AUTHOR UNKNOWN COMPOSER, BRANDON HODGERS, KYLE MYRICKS, MARIO PIZZINI, RASHAD THOMAS
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc.







Chevelle

[Intro:]
O-O-O-Ohio

[Hook - Rashad:]
Chevelle, chevelle, chevelle (chevelle)
Chevelle, you know me well (know me well)
Got me gassing you up, taking you out on the town
Poppin' the trunk, showing you off
So sexy when your top's down

[Verse 1:]
I just wanna show you off to the whole world
Make everyone mad, especially my old girl
I ain't gassin' when I say you're my only girl
Those new shoes and new coach, you better go girl
Go girl, you know the show world
You're so thorough, twerk for me, that talk is so real
Made of steel, my superwoman, for real
I spend four bills just to make that ass fat
And put four twelves in it to make that ass clap
Now you're booming, yeah you're booming, how I like it
You stay clean but that bubble gum light (scent?)
Dark tin, our alone time is well spend
[?] The city cruising on the rode trips
You're my ride or die, my down ass chick
My first crush, my first love, since a little ass kid
I hung posters of you, hoping one day, I'll get
A chance to show you how deep this love for you is

[Hook]

[Verse 2:]
She's so systematic, she's so afrocentric
She's so black and strong, she's so wide and long
She won't ever let me get lost, she loves to take control
But yeah she knows who's the boss and she loves when I floss
Round the city, top down, flashin' the [?]
Big blunts burning, smoke flowing, like an exhaust
Engine purring, cat wet, feel the bass and like that
A fishtail she throw it right back, she love when I get under her
Grip the wheel and talk to her, her skin so soft and comfortable
She do whatever I want her to, the whole city in love with her
Kids cuddle around her, pointing at her curve
Telling me 'I can't wait to get older and find a girl like yours'
They wanna sit inside and listen to all her words
Her volume loud, I bet your father smilin' down on us
The first time I took you out we sat by the [?]
Conversing all night long, listening to LaVere

[Hook]

[Outro - Rashad:]
Chevelle, chevelle, chevelle chevelle
Chevelle, you know me well (you know me well)
Girl you know me well, girl you know me well (Oooh)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: KYLE MYRICKS, MARIO PIZZINI, RASHAD THOMAS
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc.







Free

[Intro:]
Riding, yah
Real shit
(correct)

[Hook:]
I love to be free

[Verse 1:]
Breaking the half in the kitchen closet
Baking soda by the water faucet
Pot and spoon on the stove [?]
This the ish that make a soul fly (I love to be free)
Naked women counting money on the sofa
Tony Montana, bunch of coke boys, all adolescent, fly dressing
All gold boys, get you everything from an eight ball to a home boy
Hit the street, Chevy riding like a Rolls-Royce
Roll joints and bump Geto Boys
Twisting fingers, throw bankers out the window it's like we sense some danger
I ain't fly by this fall, let you meet your maker
Skinny nigga but I got my weight up, ten large in each pocket nigga who can hate us
Beat a nigga out his pockets if you try and play us
Trigger chick on this strip we some effin' playas
Bank rolls, bank ain't never closed, nigga, pay up

[Hook x4]

[Interlude:]
I really just wanna be free man

[Verse 2:]
Five deep in the hatchback
Cockin' straps tryna find out where the cash at
Lurkin', hoodie down and a black mask
Eight shots, twelve gauge wrapped in black flags
To cool the pipes when the shell blasts
Miss a nigga on that corner then we pill back
To finish the job, dome shots, send him to God
Ever stare a dead man in the face while you finish to rob
Blood leak and body cold, eyes looking beyond
While you're snatching out his gold, take his money then run
And your conscience eating you like 'damn that's somebody's son'
But you're stomach aching you can't keep scraping these crumbs
And it's do or die and I'ma ride till no breathe in these lungs
[?] Playing sweet song, bust back, if the heat come
Play your enemies close, but never ever sleep with 'em
Advice for flashy hustlers with jack boys peepin' 'em
If you ever see that hatchback, nigga you better squeeze on 'em

[Hook x4]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: ADAM JEREMY WILLIAMS, MICHAEL TEMPESTA, SIGVE SJURSEN, ADRIAN A OST, MICHAEL CUMMINGS
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Songtrust Ave, BMG Rights Management







Navajo Rugs

Most slippers dreaming through this peace pipe
Praying in the dark hoping that I see light
Trynna stay sharp with a dark vision
Gotta couple heathens with me trynna bombard the system
My man just went to jail and brought a gun charge with him
On top of that other felonies
I told him hold his head I'll make sure he lives through these melodies
I hate to see him trapped, wish these raps could just set him free
Whoever thought selling heart would get you seventeen, that's seventeen
I mean yesterday was everything if there's no hope for tomorrow
And money ain't everything, I can go broke tomorrow
Sometimes I find happiness in a broke down cigar
In an isolated room on this Navajo wall
Mind drifting, smoke disappearing through the wall
I hear the loud voices, that's my homies calling
Open up the windows, let the angels fall in

As I bob and weave between stars
Learn and dream between Mars
When words are weaved, pictures are painted
Like Navajo Rugs or woven blankets
As I bob and weave between stars
Learn and dream between Mars
When words are weaved, pictures are painted
Like Navajo Rugs or woven blankets

Got so much on my mind, all these thoughts weaving in and out created design
So intricate like hand spun rugs
They say they talking outside
But I hear no love
I feel the shots in my back
But there's no slugs
I brush the dirt off my shoulders
Wipe away all the mug that's been slung
They say the sword ain't as mighty as the tongue
The horns get the attention
But the war starts with the drum
808s and low ends beating on my chest like King Kong
Gorilla warfare, the force here
You could feel it in the song
All the warrior in this gone
I sip Indian style wrapped' in blankets
Smokin' on the bong, trynna find my inner peace
Jugglin' stone, never take it for granted, what the struggle is for
Cuz through that dark hole life is beautiful, like emeralds and gold
There's diamonds in the dirt, you just gotta dig through some coal

As I bob and weave between stars
Learn and dream between Mars
When words are weaved, pictures are painted
Like Navajo Rugs or woven blankets
As I bob and weave between stars
Learn and dream between Mars
When words are weaved, pictures are painted
Like Navajo Rugs or woven blankets

I woke up among the confused, but yawning
The bloodstream came to collect dues this morning
For all the signs we drop, the parachute supplies
Are limited, coated in images
Yet the code of the streets leaves our thoughts with no access
The revenue of colour, all reduced to a blackness
But aside the thought, I can find the calm
That's why we close our eyes to concentrate
The cons debate, against the pros talking first degree
Murder on the clock, they got time to kill
I'm intricate to be up in it
So I defend every minute, cons hoping for dimes to deal
Perimeters occupied by a few chosen
To take heed to the fact a few in here are posin'
On the laws of lies, attracted to the warm like wool
But don't let it get pulled over your eyes
Oh, lord

As I bob and weave between stars
Learn and dream between Mars
When words are weaved, pictures are painted
Like Navajo Rugs or woven blankets
As I bob and weave between stars
Learn and dream between Mars
When words are weaved, pictures are painted
Like Navajo Rugs or woven blankets
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher







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