"S. F. Sorrow is born" S. F. Sorrow is born S. F. Sorrow is born S. F. Sorrow, S. F. Sorrow S. F. Sorrow is born The sunlight of his days Was spent
Bản dịch: Pretty Things. S. F. Sorrow Is Born.
You were born. We made a love together, and together it continues to grow. That's the day Me and You were born. I love the day Me and You were born.
[Verse 1:] People check to tell me What they think is right I don't listen to them Don't know day from night I'll go through life searchin' Tryin' to
chicken shit girlfriends Ridin' along in back What's been happening with you boys? Are you having a nice time on your trip? All the way from Jersey City And you look pretty
Uhh, check it out, uhh (I steps in where the Mo's and the hoes at baby) Fuck all that pretty shit Takin' it back to the gutter for you motherfuckers (
Really, get smacked silly, you get smacked silly Fucking with these niggas from the, what you gonna do When you ready, shit I was born ready And I was
up upon your pedestal I just love to see you win But when they torture you It's like standing on a dragon's tongue, oh, oh They flash your pretty nightmare
Go to war with my brothers I'm unstable like Kane did to Abel I'm out the stable sinnin from the beginnin Leavin daddy's little girl pretty linen bloody
you used to love nice things Pretty party dresses, candy and rings You was your Momma's little angel, Daddy's little girl They used to fix your hair up in pretty
smart mouths we call them pretty dumb, Take your baby home, she strip to reggaeton, Make me spend all my money, Now I need a payday loan, Was born in
ass to sleep Disregard this camouflage batter shattering thirty teeth Heist pulling drug selling niggas coming from dirty street Look what? Pretty boy
I was driving down a lonely highway As the sun went down I pretty a voice right beside me saying Why don't you turn around? Why don't you stop feel the
can't make it right (You pretty thing) Whatcha wanna be Whatcha wanna say You pretty thing Oh, you pretty thing Fact satisfaction no artificial, no, oh Oh, you pretty
formula our houses are rectangular but life is curved not angular so when things start to strangular remember rain still falls on the halls of power new babies being born
may be Saturday's child all grown Moving with a pinch of grace You may be a clown in the burial ground Or just another pretty face You may be the fate
I was born in a flatland, USA And all my dreams led me to L.A. Another chase of rags to riches I learned to throw some fancy pitches I found out what
I turn and walk away Then I come 'round again It looks as though tomorrow I'll do pretty much the same I must turn down your offer But I'd like to ask