back Buried in the din of rotor noise And close explosions I do my best to synthesize the sounds And my emotions This is where the allies bombed the school
not one of them there But for what he can get out of it in the end So if you're thinking of going on the stage Put down your guitar, stay in school Take
't take any more illicit drugs I can't afford any artificial joy I'd sure look like a fool dead in a ditch somewhere With a mind full of chemicals Like some cheese eating high school
the bar Who rides the wrecking ball in two rock guitars Don't tell us you need us, 'cos we're the ship of fools Looking for America coming through your schools
Well, we bursted out of class Had to get away from those fools We learned more from a 3-minute record, baby Than we ever learned in school Tonight
was What else was there to do besides look like a thug So in my senior year at Columbia High I dropped out of High School when i got signed B.o.B was
funky Tales of the F U N K Y Tales of the funky She said, I know the drummer can you let me in? Tell the guitar player that I brought my friends She
Edgar Allan Poe But since I'm a ne-gro, I flows like Maya Ange-lou No banja-lo was played, I means banjo betrayed so the guitar, had to take the bitch
and im still sewing it down moon roof to da back bently coupe blowin it out rock juice like a electric guitar,bounce to da sky like im tryna shoot
a jerk Your mama don't like it when you run around with me But we gotta hip your mama that you gotta live free Don't need her, don't need school You
Eddie waited 'til he finished high school He went to Hollywood, got a tattoo He met a girl out there with a tattoo too The future was wide open They
Hook it boy, hook it Play that guitar, show 'em, son" "Yeah, that's my boy, alright Taught him everything he knows Bought him his first guitar Ah, sock
that guitar Girls with guitars (She wasn't any debutante) Girls with guitars (She didn't go out for cheer leading) Girls with guitars (Boys are kind
the rhythm with the huchuckuh, uchukah, ahh Twista rollin hard thinking it?s a hood thang We make a harmony like her fingers on the guitar Don?t wanna
a romance When ya do the thing you shouldn't do (Peek-a-boo, a-watchin' you) When you ought to be in school Learning about the golden rule When ya
They told you in school about freedom But when you try to be free they never let you They said, "It's easy, nothing to it" And now the army's out to get
So I took my guitar And I threw down some chords And some words I could sing without shame And I soon had a song I played it around For some friends
you see him with his guitar Down the highway, he would walk along Singin' old songs, singin' Sunday blues But his school bells were his only song Yes his school