Tytuł: Potholes in my lawn

• Wykonawca: De La Soul
• Wyświetleń: 255

  
   Yo, something's wrong here. No, not again!)
  (Get the daisies for the...)
  Potholes in my lawn
  DOVE:
  Everybody's sayin'
  What to do when suckin' lunatics start diggin' and chewin'
  They don't know that the Soul don't go for that
  Potholes in my lawn
  And that goes for my rhyme sheet
  Which I concentrated so hard on, see
  I don't ask for maximum security
  But my dwellin' is swellin'
  It nipped my bud when I happened to fall
  Into a spot
  Where no ink or an ink-blot
  Was on a scroll
  I just wrote me a new 'mot'
  But now it's gone
  There's no
  Suckers knew that I hate
  To recognise that every time I'm writin'
  It's gone
  (Yodel-a-hee, Yodel-oh-hee, Yodel-a)
  (Yodel-a-hee, Yodel-oh-hee, Yodel-ee-hee-hee-hee)
  Potholes in my lawn
  POS:
  I've found that it's not wise
  To leave my garden untended
  'Cause eyes have now pardoned all laws of privacy
  Even paws are after my writer
  See, I've found that everyone's sayin'
  What to do when suckers are preyin'
  On my well-guarded spreadsheets
  Oh why, hell does it send up fleets
  Of evil-doers through the big hole
  To get to evil-doers who dig holes
  Which leaves my lawn with lawn-chew
  I think I'd better plant traces to give clues
  Or better yet call 911
  And when they get here I inform them I'm the Plug One
  Open a chair and let them realize the reason
  For concern of the Soul,
  'Cause we've come down with a case of potholes
  (Yodel-a-hee, Yodel-oh-hee, Yodel-a)
  (Yodel-a-hee, Yodel-oh-hee, Yodel-ee-hee-hee-hee)
  Potholes in my lawn
  (Who stole, who stole, who stole the cookie
  from the cookie jar?)
  DOVE:
  Now you got the message
  What to do when you die
  The death that I predict in 'Plug Tunin'
  It's a shame that you deny to claim
  That you stole my words of fame
  That I wrote in my rhyme sheet
  Which I concentrated so hard on, see
  I don't ask for a barbed wire fence, B
  But my dwellin' is swellin'
  It nipped my bud when I happened to fall
  Into a spot
  Where no ink or an ink-blot
  Was on a scroll
  I just wrote me a new 'mot'
  But now it's gone there's no
  Suckers knew that I hate
  To recoginse that every time I'm writin'
  It's gone
  Potholes in my lawn
  (Yodel-a-hee, Yodel-oh-hee, Yodel-a)
  (Yodel-a-hee, Yodel-oh-hee, Yodel-ee-hee-hee-hee)