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RU: 0-9 А Б В Г Д Е Ж З И К Л М Н О П Р С Т У Ф Х Ц Ч Ш Щ Э Ю Я
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Текст (слова) песни: De La Soul - Potholes In My Lawn

Yo something`s wrong here. No not again!)
(Get the daisies for the...)
Potholes in my lawn
DOVE:
Everybody`s sayin`
What to do when suckin` lunatics start diggin` and chewin`
They don`t know that the Soul don`t go for that
Potholes in my lawn
And that goes for my rhyme sheet
Which I concentrated so hard on see
I don`t ask for maximum security
But my dwellin` is swellin`
It nipped my bud when I happened to fall
Into a spot
Where no ink or an ink-blot
Was on a scroll
I just wrote me a new `mot`
But now it`s gone
There`s no
Suckers knew that I hate
To recognise that every time I`m writin`
It`s gone
(Yodel-a-hee, Yodel-oh-hee, Yodel-a)
(Yodel-a-hee, Yodel-oh-hee, Yodel-ee-hee-hee-hee)
Potholes in my lawn
POS:
I`ve found that it`s not wise
To leave my garden untended
`Cause eyes have now pardoned all laws of privacy
Even paws are after my writer
See, I`ve found that everyone`s sayin`
What to do when suckers are preyin`
On my well-guarded spreadsheets
Oh why, hell does it send up fleets
Of evil-doers through the big hole
To get to evil-doers who dig holes
Which leaves my lawn with lawn-chew
I think I`d better plant traces to give clues
Or better yet call 911
And when they get here I inform them I`m the Plug One
Open a chair and let them realize the reason
For concern of the Soul,
`Cause we`ve come down with a case of potholes
(Yodel-a-hee, Yodel-oh-hee, Yodel-a)
(Yodel-a-hee, Yodel-oh-hee, Yodel-ee-hee-hee-hee)
Potholes in my lawn
(Who stole, who stole, who stole the cookie
from the cookie jar?)
DOVE:
Now you got the message
What to do when you die
The death that I predict in `Plug Tunin`
It`s a shame that you deny to claim
That you stole my words of fame
That I wrote in my rhyme sheet
Which I concentrated so hard on, see
I don`t ask for a barbed wire fence, B
But my dwellin` is swellin`
It nipped my bud when I happened to fall
Into a spot
Where no ink or an ink-blot
Was on a scroll
I just wrote me a new `mot`
But now it`s gone there`s no
Suckers knew that I hate
To recoginse that every time I`m writin`
It`s gone
Potholes in my lawn
(Yodel-a-hee, Yodel-oh-hee, Yodel-a)
(Yodel-a-hee, Yodel-oh-hee, Yodel-ee-hee-hee-hee)

 

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