boys Don't tell me what to do And don't tell me what to say Please when I go out with you Don't put me on display 'cause You don't own me Don't try
look at me I can tell that you're a freak And I'll be laying in the sun, bottle and a gun The way you look at me I can tell that you're a freak My clothes
could find me some But I kept my tables in the crib when I wasn't in the club Tom Rich and Mike Shafer used to give me rides And buy me groceries when
to me, my friends wont' see me My girl now hates me, and she don't wanna marry me 'Cause when this all dawned on me It wasn't a rhyme it was just base
me like a soccer ball White people didn't accept me Fuck you Black people didn't accept me Fuck you Puerto Ricans didn't accept me Fuck you Diggin researchin my identity it
crack « click-clack, joint, » this thing is on my sleeve All this mess around and I gotta clean it up Okay, mister questions, you tell me
Just a-wishing I'd stayed a little longer, Oh, Lord, let me tell you that the feeling's getting stronger. And it's six in the morning, gave me no
Phyllis: I, it wasn't me laying in the corner! That was, that wasn't me! FZ: Ha ha . . . Who was it? Phyllis: That was Sheba! It wasn't me! FZ: Who
me now I feel the call of the wild Something inside me gets riled Get me away from here before the thing I fear Makes me for#dt for the while Why oh
bought dat Yeah, I'll pay for it, I'll break down walls Make her weigh for it, I'll wait for it I'll wait for it, tick, tick, tock Tick, tick, tock,
Speak on it, speak on it, speak on it, speak on it now Speak on it, speak on it, speak on it, speak on it now Speak on it, speak on it, speak on it, speak
dominant brown bomber, I'm in it, being prominent Walking it, mean walking it, clean the scene, stalking it Volcanic, got ya'll panicking, false canyon
tearing us apart Oh Savannah you know we can't wait Cos it might be too late If we wait any longer You call me on the phone and you tell me how
love With your sailor's mouth and your wounded eyes You better get down on the floor Don't you know this is war Tell me who are you this time? Tell me
help, Prince Paul gave me your number You know man, you just gotta do that for me Got this fly bassline Got these fly trombones in it man So just hook me
COMING HOME - written by Darius & Tom Howe A part of me died The day that you left She didn't tell me No last goodbye My heart left for dead Somebody tell
me some fish with the eyes falling out How about a little sand over it? That'll make it... Sand on the fish, yes, a sand-fish That be ten marks
