Oh Lord, oh Lord Oh Lord, oh Lord, do You see us down here? Sometimes I look up to the sky When I die, put my ashes in the trash bag I don't care where they go Don't waste your money on my gravestone I'm more concerned about my soul Everybody's gon' die

Club Tropicana, drinks are free Fun and sunshine, there's enough for everyone All that's missing is the sea But don't worry, you can suntan! Pack your bags And leave tonight Don't take your time Gotta move your feet, don't you miss the flight!

I get the money, young nigga get money, the money'll follow me (go get it) I get the money, young nigga get money, (that bag, that bag) the money'll follow me (go get it) I get the money, the money is nothing (go get it), I count it then fall asleep

I'm gonna make it anyway It's not right, but it's okay Pack your bags up and leave Close the door behind you leave your key I'd rather be alone than unhappy And don't you dare come running back to me It's not right but it's okay Friday night you and your

Blame it on the bag You can blame it on the bag If you wonderin’ why I changed up Tell ‘em the money is why I changed up I’m gettin' high smokin’ with angels You know I can hate that’s what a lame does Bring it back stackin’ this money But I still can’t

I want every other freckle Oh oh oh oh oh (oh oh oh oh oh) I want to share your mouthful I want to do all the things your lungs do so well I’m gonna bed into you like a cat prance into a beanbag Turn you inside out and lick you like a crisp packet

(If Heaven was a mile away) Would I pack up my bags and leave this world behind? Or save it all for you? Would I, fill the tank up with gas and be out the front door in a FLASH Before reconsidering, this Hell with you It ain't you it's the things you do

I've played every beer joint tavern From New York City out to Pasadena Every corn dog fair and rodeo And sold out every basketball arena In Afghanistan and Baghdad City too Graduate of Honky Tonk you My grandmother owned a night club On the

Baa, baa, black sheep Have you any wool? Yes sir, yes sir Three bags full One for the master One for the dame And one for the little boy Who lives down the lane Three bags full.

Fly closer to heaven and far from hell Fly so put your wings up, put your wings up Mother said don't pack your bags We ain't got no time for that I saw signs on the video I saw signs looking back but you never know Said the sharp bulbs long lines The