your house in fit repair I dust the portraits daily Your mail comes here from everywhere The writing looks like ladies Lady, please love me now, I am dead I am a
(oh yeah) we are the six nightmares (oh yeah)" I saw a millionaire eat his shadow, I saw a water clock beat a widow they said if one man's life is the
buying flowers from the flower lady And the flower lady hobbles home without a sale Tattered shreds of petals leave a fading trail Not a pause to hold
welcome to a dead end, a wall stronger than you could ever imagine, a breeze of things remembered only cuts like the desperation, that gasps and gives
does it, baby Nice and slow I?ll take you anywhere the four winds blow Weep no more, my lady Don?t you cry I can?t paint your portrait With those tears
up daisies in a fugazi orifice [Joe Budden:] I dress half hood, half corporate If your closet ain't the size of a master bedroom you won't get the portrait
, shadows across cobblestones, girl in front of a bathroom mirror she slowly and carefully and paints her face green and mask like. A portrait. A green
I had the questions And the moment to ask If only I had the shoes in which to dance To take a chance to free myself Enough to paint a portrait Of my
s a, rider, a world wide, rider (Chorus x2) If you wanna dip with me, trip with me, get rich with me Then you a world wide rider (rider) You a world
Jock the dope boys cause we all toss bricks Federale's jock while I'm crossin the bridge Click click, take a portrait of this I ain't no pretty boy, I got a
It calls the Victorian lady back from the dead She rises from the cold ground and enters through the door as a draught to you and I If you and I could
your house in fit repair I dust the portraits daily Your mail comes here from everywhere The writing looks like ladies' "Lady, please love me now, I am dead I am a
of the twilight day There's a Little Yellow Man, standing by the railway station Painting portraits on the brick-walls of Billie Holloway Lovely Lady
gravediggaz in a head full of dread I've been examined ever since I was seamen They took a sonogram and seen the image of a demon At birth the nurses
it's dirt Death pressin ya and ya like a hustler on the first ya need work Stand by the grand high exhaulted At your door with a portrait of the raw shit
thing), in your life until its gone (your) I'm taking your portrait, your portrait, your portrait off my phone I'm taking your portrait, (portrait) your portrait, your portrait