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John Travolta % Olivia Newton-John - Текст песни Tired
We can go, soul for soul, over mic control
 Kid you can touch me with a ten foot pole
 And I even made the devil sell me his jewels
 He was out to cold mock me, and play you for fools
 Kid, you know the rules, must be smoking (?two for booze?)
 Try to dis me on the low, got to be a psycho
 That's alright though, you know you won't see me shaking
 I'm out to the blow the spot on who's real and who's faking
 Who's giving, who's taking, who's living, who's starving
 Dis me on the mic, it's time for headstone carving
 And epitaph writing, I strike you like lightning
 Dissolve you like powder, so turn it up louder
 Go on, pump the wattage, get the cheese, buy a cottage
 I like mean streets, I like Spanish freaks
 I like Korean bar-b-que, I like old school beats
 Chorus:
 And I'm sick of all the shit that's dropping
 And I'm tired of all the lip that's poppingJohn Travolta % Olivia Newton-John - Tired - http://ru.motolyrics.com/john-travolta-olivia-newton-john/tired-lyrics.html
 And all the wack attitudes people copping
 I'm only tryin' to get a few heads bobbing
 (Repeat)
 It go bang bang boogie, I'm sick like a loogie
 I'm w(e)iser than Bud, I'm thicker than blood
 I'm moldin' in time, moldin' from the divine
 How could you be so bold, to think that you'll take mine
 I'm Cash like Johnny, it's the highway man
 And I'm walkin' this line the best way I can
 With my farmer's tan and my bloodshot eyes
 I ain't body no one, I ain't dropped no pies
 With the mothers from the gutters
 I'm 'bout to explode, and blow the spot 
 For now, but the gun, he'll roll
 Like artillery shells, been from heaven to hell
 And I'm say a little prayer for every rapper that fell
Chorus










