que no se te olvide corazon que fuiste tu la que una vez me dijo que el pasado lo enterraba el olvido y que por tu avandono el olvido me enterro y que
Time: 1:55 brother publishing co. bmi Brian wilson I'm thinking about a-this whole world Late at night I think about the love of this whole world Lots
Come on, I'll believe it when I see it I can feel my body working I can hear my body healing Come on, there is no one there to hurt us There is no one
I'm still young, but I know my days are numbered 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 and so on But a time will come, when these numbers have all ended And all I've ever seen
He?s got the whole world in His hands He?s got the whole world in His hands He?s got the whole world in His hands He?s got the whole world in His hands
Misery is all we know lately Saturdays are all the same Sympathy is overrated Like a snapshot when you've lost the game Now it's all a funeral I've become
A body is washed up on a Norfolk beach He was a friend that I could not reach He thought I was cold but I understand But for the grace of God goes another
Your secret is safe I'll keep it on the inside Cover you play Makin' up a white lie I can't complain She's finally off of my back I shoulda known better
Black suits, eyes closed, Nothing left to hear. One mistake, blame the youth, Crossed the line of fear. Burn the bridges that we crossed in time, Seemed
Losing a whole year Losing a whole year I remember you and me used to spend The whole goddamned day in bed Losing a whole year Hiding in your room we
Burn so crooked (Crooked) The poet likes to spit (Spit) Kareem, that's my dog Life behind the walls Nigga, life behind the walls Yeah, welcome to Oz,
Where it at, where it at Where it at, where it at Where it at, where it at Oh do he rhyme with a slug from the shots in his face or Do he rhyme wit a
Just blaze I spit an' reload things since livin' was gold rings Fuck a piece of the pie, nigga, gimme the whole thing I done seen death, seen less, seen
Uh huh, uh huh, Brooklyn, Vietnam What you, uh, yeah, uh, come on Oh no, big Shyne Po Back in the motherfuckin' heezy for sheezy Gimme a tech that don
[Shyne] Yeah, yeah This ones for my Brooklyn playboys This ones for my L.A. playboys This ones for my Chi-town playboys ATL, down south NC, SC Where you
Shit, sometimes man, be contemplating Yo, living in hell, die, might be better Walk through the shadow of death, my out pissing Rebel, laughing at the