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Текст (слова) песни: Total - Sitting Home(Remix)



[Puff Daddy (speaking)]
The man you`ve all been waiting to hear
Check him out

[Shyne]
Let it be understood
Bad Boy run this
Brooklyn the A T they pump this
Punch you in your head
With this gun shit
Y`all know I be on some dumb shit
I`ma cold kill the niggas that air the block out
And ten chiller broads that`ll wear your cock out
Cost a half a mil
That was me you seen hop out
Stop playin, game over like a lockout
Serious shit
I`m the baddest Bad Boy, period shit
Me and P-U-double-F in the 4 period 6
Knocking Total
Carrying weight, flavor, no doubt

[Pam]
I`m getting tired being tired of your ways
You haven`t come home or even called me today
You don`t know the pain when I`m being alone
I`m calling out your name when you`re not even home

[Bridge]
Cause I need you with me babe
Can`t see you leaving me babe
Cause I don`t know no other road I would go
And I hope your feelings change
Come bring your lovin` back to me
So I can give you what you need and much more

[Chorus]
Sitting home waiting for you
`Cause staring at these walls is all I do
I try my best to be good to you
But you`re never around when I`m in the mood

[Kisha]
All my friends think that I am a fool
And since you have been gone I`ve been thinkin so too
Just tell me what it is and what you feel I do wrong
We should stay together cause our love is so strong

[Bridge]

[Puff Daddy (speaking)]
Shyne, talk to me one more time

[Shyne]
I think it`s only right I let it be known
I was on some multi-platinum melody tone
Shit `bout to bury me homes
Carry my chrome
Pencil bars, and Continental R`s
Coincidental? Nah
I was meant to do this
My speeches, as a foetus
Meet you at your zenith, you beatless
I made one you liked, wait I`ll make tons
You better off counting stars
Than the ho`s that I make come
Hot to death
I ain`t talking rhymes
I`m talking `bout this vest, tek
And the ??cult recovery west??
From the better we ball
BK to 2-5
Nigga Shyne and it`s too live
Say you better nigga you lie
want to be me, you can`t fit the shoe size
Ho`s, room skies, young don
from um, Brook-lyn, done, gone

[Chorus]repeat till fade

 

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