take so long To see the ways I?ve done you wrong I say? In your arms, in your arms In your arms, in your armsa??In your arms, in your arms Here in your arms
catch this time Can't find a single cloud in the sky Help me before I get used to this guy They say that good things take time But really great things
here just brings me to tears It's hard enough we got to raise our kids to live in this world So full of hate with no fate, and you're killing your pearls
your face and there'll never be one to take your place 'Cause each and every time you touch the spray paint can Michelangelo's soul controls your hand
here's my plan You won't even get bread and water my man Gonna put you on the racks like a pair of slacks With another wack rapper tied to your back
ducks Everybody in your crew sucks Punk muthafucks Fuck critics, fuck your review Even if you like me, FUCK YOU! Fuck your Mom, fuck your Mom's Mama
Get the fuck outta here, Nena Get the fuck outta here, Paper Get the fuck outta here, Wall Get the fuck outta here Yeah, I'ma spitter, you other cats
your arms around me As I tuck the kids in bed I don't know what you're doin' And I don't know where you are But I look up at that great big sky And
I look out here in front of all you people, I see that you're all standing on this rink. And when you walked in here, this rink had cement underneath
still are somehow this land And spend oh spend your life away Spend your spend your night away And waste and waste your life away Under the brightstarlight Under your
stay right here, but You'll be missed my dear Here comes your son Here comes your son He isn't all right Here comes your son Here comes your
do what we're supposed to Right here in my arms, right here in my arms Right here in my arms, right here in my arms Right here in my arms
I'm the disco fucker of the new generation. I'm in line with the active invention. Here's a fist to forward your fucking evolution. Head full of ten
derivative works of this art-fag I need to be in arms reach of a barf bag Using a bland sci-fi lab kit No fan's hands will go sky-high for that shit
coming home late. The weather was fine and the ocean was great and I can't wait to see you again. Hate reads the letter and throws it away. "No one here
't stop me Got dogs big as Bruce Smith to block me It's Blake on the grape, pouring ya juice, tickle your weight Just might be, politely, leave your man
put your mind in a new situation You could be tripping through the galaxy Lost in a dream just you and me (chorus) You reach your arms up to the sky
