Превод: Дан домашно отглежданите. Whut.
Превод: Дан домашно отглежданите. Г-н Джонсън ръководител (Remix).
Превод: Дан домашно отглежданите. Месо Cleaver.
Превод: Дан домашно отглежданите. Sondoobiest Interlude.
in a rock'n ska band To haulin' boss crude in the big rigs Now I've come back home to plan my next move From the comfort of my aunt faye's couch When
always recorder walk wid da Lord not a borer Mr.munk's raw to da corer u got ur wifey ur at home lipsin her up she see's me shes flexin sora its not
'LL TELL YOU, THERE'S A LOT OF STORIES IN HARLAN COUNTY. YEA, FOLKS IN HARLAN COUNTY, LORD, THEY KNEW THAT WE WERE POOR THEY ALWAYS CALLED MY DADDY PREACHER DAN
s at, boy I'm true to Organized, 'cuz they raised me I'm also down with La Face 'cuz L.A. Reid, yeah, he pays me And it's cool yeah, it's real cool, gettin
line in her backyard each day on a stick horse I called old Dan One day my mama she called me aside and said you can't be fourteen again There's not
me out on the floor That's just the tip of the iceberg look It's too long for a song but perfect for a book Word is bond, that's real baby (All I ever
having too much fun And I hear these days she's living at home with a three year old son Reading up on women taking power The trees grow high And the leaves they grow
funk's at, boy I'm true to Organized, cuz they raised me I'm also down with LaFace cuz L.A. Reid, yeah, he pays me And it's cool Yeah, it's real cool,
journey Joy in the coming home A part of the heart Gets lost in the learning Somewhere along the road. Along the road Your path may wander A pilgrim's
An only child Alone and wild A cabinet maker's son His hands were meant For different work And his heart was known To none -- He left his home And
a mare And the strength of a stud It's breeding and it's training And it's something unknown That drives you and carries You home. And it's run for
s beck and call For she must never waken from her Crimson Sleep.. The monastery stood towering above the ruined city It shadowed all the new emerging settlements and homes
of halls Lest bitterness and chaos be the harvest they wouldst reap He must n'er become a slave to this Child's beck and call For she must never waken