Teksty:
Don Martin Three

: (Fire as a metaphor) late night collision, two machines cross paths unexpectedly. Oddly, their engines conitued to run individually, as if oblivious

: katahdn. the eerie cold of the morning. the sun shining through the pines. in the distance a fish rises to an insect. giving birth to infinite

'm multiplyin' my money through different avenues Took many to war, shook never before For my mother I applaud Ms. Afeni Shakur Ice insured, fuck life insurance Three bad bitches, it don

don't fear none of y'all In my heart, it burns this fire And I don't fear none of y'all In my heart, it burns this fire And I don't fear none of y'

make ya nose bleed Dope so pote and my fiends done OD'd For three hundred and fifty a pop I'll sell you a dro seed You really don't know me and thats

2: Eminem (with Lil Jon in back round)] You don't want no problems with Harlem You don't want no problems with the boogie down Bronkster (Yeah!) You don

on soap Landed on his back, with his gat, now that's dope We got three minutes, nobody seen shit Somebody might have heard shit Singing on some Martin

fast, and to make it last It's just three men at chung king getting busy We've come a long way since kunta kintizzy And you don't stop, rock on Chubb

teacher but you still can't see 'Cause while you respect Tupac, Tupac respected me Another thing, don't ever show me another ring Remember you Rudy Ray Moore, I'm Martin