They call me Junior, I live here on the street. I earn two hundred dollars a week. I'd like to say, "Hey, thanks a lot" I know I'm missin' something. But I don't know what it is. That I don't got
Junior's eyes, looked up to the skies in tears. He prayed that his maker. The giver and taker would hear. Junior sighed, as his hands reached out to the sky. Junior cried, the day that his best
. Reached in his trenchcoat, and pulled out a yellow envelope Which contained twenty thousand in cash, a photograph. Of a Colombian ***** with a long mustache. Miguel Sanchez, keep a **** hidden in his
Verse. Where'd you go, you were there by my side. Keep believing it's my turn to hide. In a place where we don't have a prayer. There's a tether that's keeping me there. . Chorus. Trade our pla
