nedjeljno popodne u pola pet prazne su ulice mislim o svemu tuzan je grad odoh daleko ispijam do dna nedjeljno popodne u pola pet sporo protice slusam
Haven't got a lot to learn And my eyes they stray again Looking for a satellite In the rays of heaven again There's no other ending Sunday sun Yesterdays
Lazy Sunday, wake up in the late afternoon Call Parnell just to see how he's doin' Hello? What up, Parns? Yo, Samberg, what's crackin'? You thinkin' what
Sunday is gloomy, my hours are slumberless Dearest, the shadows I live with are numberless Little white flowers will never awaken you Not where the black
It's a Sunday night, Sunday night with my baby It's a Sunday night, Sunday night with my baby I feel like you're the real thing And I feel like I could
For those who've slept For those who've kept Themselves jacked up How Jesus wept, Sunday, Sunday For those in need For those who speed For those who
I can barely feel the sheets with all these crumbs down in my bed How can I get to sleep with all this buzzin' in my head And who'd have ever thought
just think of this and me as just a few of the many things to lie around, to clutter up your shelves and I wish you weren't worth the wait cause there
Blinded by the vision I turn and face my back to the wall 'Cause I'm locked up in a rhythm The prism of a big glitter ball Wrapped around your finger
Bye bye baby, take me on a highway This time it could be heaven Even for a little while, didn't want to miss you Maybe I can make you feel fine I don
One little, two little, three little putos Tried to jack me they got the boot, oh Taking no shit when push comes to shove 'Cause the nigga showed me no
This one goes out to all you punk motherfuckers out there Yeah, eat a bowl of dick'up fools! Do ya wanna get crazy? Comin' atcha in '93! Through the
Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill Crusing through the neighborhood Some say
Livin' on fat pockets on flat wit tha gat Rollin' around a nine deuce Cadillac Still got my homies to watch my back And they'll smoke ya ass if you wanna
Next Sunday, darling is my birthday A day that should be free from care Best wishes and congratulations But only sorrow fills the air While friends are
(a) next sunday darlin' is my birth -(e7) day, A day that should be free from (a) care, Best wishes and con - grat - u - (e7) la - tions, But only sorrow
She took a rolled up twenty out of her pocket And paid for my cigarettes We were friends at first sight in the 7-Eleven light She said, "Here, let me