It's still called the blues Baby needs new shoes Mama needs a new dress Daddy's out scufflin' Tryin' to do his best Anyway you look at it It's still
Now here it is three o' clock in the mornin' And I can't even close my eyes It's three o' clock in the mornin', baby I can't even close my eyes Well,
Baby, please don?t be angry with me Honey, because I?m goin? away Oh, please don?t be angry with me, baby Because I?m goin? away I told you all about
drink it all from a paper cup, that this here Saturday life is right Everybody's gonna stand up, play their favorite tune You can pick any tune you want to, as long as it's the blues
I'm getting a little old, baby Take it easy now Getting better looking everyday Oh yeah, I know that, I know that B.B.! Yes, that's me Belongs to Brown
you Loving you the way I do Then you'd take the night to love me too I'd like the picture on the wall So please don't let me fall It's my heart I'm
baby home Every time it rains, I think of you And that's the time, I feel so blue When the rain starts falling, my love comes tumbling down And it's
gonna talk things over And make things right 'Cause I couldn't sleep at all Since we had our fight I've got business with my baby tonight B.B.'s got
mornin' And I was on my way to school It was early one Monday mornin' When I was on my way to school That was the mornin' When I broke my mother's rule
Oh lordy Lord, oh lordy Lord It hurts me so bad for us to part But someday, baby I ain't gonna worry my life any more So many night's since you've been
, anybody seen the scale? My president is black, my Lambo's blue And I be goddamned if my rims ain't too My money's light green and my Jordan's light
on the 3 That's me, the motherfuckin', T I got ride on my surfboard, rhyme hard But only buy the shit that I can't afford That's everything, that's why
gangsta guerrilla *** Have you ever seen a hundred thousand Rip riders from the side? Blue Chucks, blue rags, gray clouds, blue skies On the move, can't lose, Hill Street Blues
started a new thing And, oh my, how Billie Holiday could sing Alan Freed rock and rolled Joe Turner's voice was very low B.B. King wailed, Charlie Parker
Days are shorter, nights are colder Feelin' like life is over, these snakes strike like a cobra The world's hot, my son got not evidently It's elementary
so need nine mo' Now the Internet, radio, prison even the TV All askin' me tah spit the meaning of B U N B Well, let's see I'm broader than Broadway, rollin' Brahma's
bleed on yo own Go home write a song about how I did you wrong How I drink petron, and blow a lotta green And they?s playas on my team like b-la and
Mike G, is it me? Nah, it's just society Filled with propagander, huh, why do we meander, huh? In a zone with hate for peace, all of this B.S must cease