per Dio, chi vincer ci puo? Avanti Italia, Italia from dusk till down, where is now your Victory, for God made you the slave of Rome. Speranza Italia, Avanti popoli Italiani
the mic flip, metronome time skip, who will high-ship The brooklyn base scholar and them niggas past islip And ooh-ooh, I curse you with that fugee-la voodoo Will do you like italian
made it to Kansas City, Twelfth Street and Vine Nothin' standing there, high water everywhere High water rising the shacks are sliding down Folks lose their possessions, the folks
Early one mornin' the sun was shinin' I was layin' in bed Wonderin' if she'd changed at all If her hair was still red Her folks, they said our lives
He made it to Kansas City, Twelfth Street and Vine Nothin' standing there Highwater everywhere Highwater rising the shacks are sliding down Folks lose their possessions, the folks
I should like to consider the folk song, and expand briefly on a theory I have held for some time, to the effect that the reason most folk songs are so
think about coming back Chain smoke em, turn they lungs black See I was raised to love black, but sometimes Black folks wanna sweat you harder than the
Early one mornin' the sun was shinin' I was layin' in bed Wond'rin' if she'd changed at all If her hair was still red Her folks they said our lives together
cash, I guess that's better than gettin locked up, or gettin jammed with that shit I had rocked up, huh! Chorus: Now I heard that the South is where yo folks
Spanish tunes The Neapolitan street song sighs You think of Italian skies Each nation has a creative vein Originating a native strain With folk songs
Should never have left the crystal lake Should never have left the crystal lake For parties full of folks who flake Italian leather winter games Retired
Early one morning the sun was shining I was laying in bed Wondering if she'd changed at all if her hair was still red Her folks they said our lives together
three months Warranty within that three months is like prenups I take half, of everybody's sales, I don't give a fuck You're rap, R & B or, folk or country
are gone Left me here to sing this song Sacco's born across the sea Somewhere over in Italy Vanzetti's born of parents fine Drank the best Italian wine
Early one mornin' the sun was shinin' I was layin' in bed Wonderin' if she had changed at all If her hair was still red And her folks had said our lives
Vanzetti was a peddling man, Pushed his fish cart with his hands. Sacco was born across the sea Somewhere over in Italy; Vanzetti was born of parents fine, Drank the best Italian
