Text:
Good Life The Notes In His Pockets

flush Says, ?Boy, we?ve hardly kept in touch It?s time for catching up? Notes in his pockets Rumors in the mill Phone calls after the bars close Unlisted numbers Still, he insists on his

flush Says, ?Boy, we've hardly kept in touch It's time for catching up? Notes in his pockets Rumors in the mill Phone calls after the bars close Unlisted numbers Still, he insists on his

red seats I call it playin checkers Ii??m never doing verses Ii??m forever giving lectures if youi??re tryna meet with money Ii??d be happy to connect ya life

me life and that's plenty Get me, homie I could spend six centuries Simply saying I'm satisfied in the sensie And it's sickenin' that knowin' God ain't good

the pavement in the rain Glowing by the light of this southbound train She's shouting ?good Christian soldiers stamp their ration book with failure ?And twinkle little Stalin's hung his

Yes, and you do look absolutely divine. (JOE is touched, despite his embarrassment; HE decides to give in gracefully and slips the cigarette case into his pocket

your teeth Living it up The good life for free I don't know what you want from me Don't you know I need somebody who can do me right And keep his pockets

is dead. I returned home from university, tears on his bed. On his pillow I found his suicide note and read what had happened that day and what had fucked up his

feed the world, even if they don't want to hear it As far as Canibus go, my man is hittin' his ex-broad I'm getting head from his new piece While 20 gang