Sole Sunday by OutKast and Goodie Mobالقصائد الغناءيه -текстове на песни -texty -paroles -στίχοι -गीतletras -songteksten -тексты песен -versuri -tekst utworu -testi -the text of the song - - نص الاغنيةтекста на песента -tekst pjesme -text písně -teksten til sangen -teksti, laulu -le texte de la chanson -το κείμενο του τραγουδιού -पाठ के गीतEl texto de la canción -de tekst van het lied -der Text des Liedes -teksten til sangen -o texto da canção -Текст песни -textul de la piesa -Texten till låten -il testo della canzone
[Al Pacino]
"I'll fight for you 'til the day I die"
Yeah...yeah...yo
Gipp keep it slow poke, hang out the side with no rope
Sit in the tub, flick the remote and soak
Pull up, jump out, and then I strut for em
And if anybody got problems, I'ma cut for em
In this atmosphere now you can disappear smoke thick
Shells bail like tailbacks lookin for hoes
Drag my ass down the air like I care
Scar that ass, leave your shirt open like an arab
Makin' money off these breakdown slabs
We got this zone, get your own
Better move on before your folk get split, you won't forget
The DF put it down, now get down, or sit down
Sunday mornin, makes me feel so Godly
Pardon me, if I shake your soul...
I tackle my problems, never run from my foes
Stiff-arm facemask, hit the juke but it didn't leave a sucka froze
Like he just tried to stuff a whole ki up in his nose
On all fo's
You hit 'em high I hit 'em low, for this dough
Yo heart gon' bust out here, 'cause we comin' full speed
We deep and take you lift you up off of your feet
At the lift, of the glass, sippin victory
Clean cut but I stay dirty
Uhh, you play fair, I teach
I spot this pig in yo' face like you never stopped eatin pork or beast, ?? ??
Tenacious on his grill, uhh, all-pro hall of famer
With no fears, blood sweat and tears, uhhh, uhh, ohh shit
Sunday mornin', makes me feel so Godly
Pardon me, if I shake your soul...
The rich boy got it bad 'cause he is rich
The po' boy got it bad 'cause he is po'
The bad boy got it bad 'cause he won't grow
The good gul got it good 'cause she got game
It runs in no undeveloped fellas considered lame
Same like mechanics do it, baby who need her Buick repaired
Don't have no knowledge of what a brake shoe is
Make woo it, turns a nigga, sperm it tickle
We wiggle, ?? emotions like dill pickle
In autumn, fall, into the bottom of black, holes
Make a left on nothingness cause that's where I'm at
Cold as summer, I got yo' number, you got my number
Let's add em, see what we come with maybe we can slumber
Like uhh, babies in homes and uhh, retarded ones, uhh
Dolphins and whales, uhh, the smartest ones, so
Nothing you can do can be new up under the sun
Depending what sun you live under you can be the one on
Sunday mornin', makes me feel so Godly
Pardon me, if I shake your soul...
Sunday mornin', makes me feel so Godly
Pardon me, if I shake your soul...
Sunday mornin, makes me feel so Godly
Pardon me, if I shake your soul...
My favourite lyrics
