to my Lord's right hand When the stars begin to fall My Lord, what a morning! My Lord, what a morning! Oh, my Lord, what a morning when the stars begin
you was only wiv me yesterday still bustin my coke You know how im a sicko sicko like my local pubs owner what was stanley suck and ball screwdriver straight camden artist soldier im a
morning I get up I die a little, can barely stand on my feet Take a look (Take a look at yourself)in the mirror and cry(yeah, yeah) Lord, what you'
you’re a star) Robbing blue collar (you’re a star) (yeah rob them blue collars) Killing for a dollar (you’re a star) Youths get tired (you’re a star) (
change its just a part of the game respect me I'm a thug, I might cool out for a sec but expect me to bug its in my blood but if my chick leave me
no ?pressure? One morning in the mirror, I seen my reflection A young man with good spirits, but needed direction I guess my man's death, was my (Ressurection
a rhyme A widowed writer torn apart by chains of hell One last perfect verse Is still the same old song Oh Christ how I hate what I have become Take
morning I get up I die a little, can barely stand on my feet Take a look (Take a look at yourself)in the mirror and cry(yeah, yeah) Lord, what you're
I'm spending my time Watching the sun go down I fall asleep to the sound Of "tears of a clown" A prayer gone blind I'm spending my time My
Clears, evaporate [Juicy J] I got a 357, a tec with a black clip A 180 pounds witha fist that will bust lips Some killaz on my side, if I tell 'em they
'm floating like a magic carpet straight from bagdad From my brains from my blood from my lungs from the dutches Cant just let this reefer just escape from my a
I clear my throat before I grab the mic I need uno momento Them cynics gonna ride me like a pinto No resentment do you comprehend my innuendo You still
money My nigga on the westside owe me bout a dub And my partner with a few, shit he owe a nigga too I should'a hugged my son, should'a kissed my mother
John Stewart/Bob Shane/Nick Reynolds Chorus: My Lord, what a mornin'. (Repeat twice) When the stars begin to fall. You will hear the sinners wailin'. (
s harder to be Sean What if the twins ask why I ain't marry they mom? (Why? Damn) How do I respond? What if my son stares with a face like my own And
a-cordin' And the cows need a-milkin', Alvin, Alvin" "Wait a minute, my name's not Alvin, that's not my life I'm not a hillbilly, I grew up in the Bronx