Call me what you want but you can't call me broke Pull up with that choppa and a telescope Got 50 chickens in with me, runnin' around in my city Young rich nigga trappin' out Bentleys, rich nigga trappin' out Bentleys We makin' a motion picture,

As Arabella Just might have tapped into your mind and soul You can't be sure My days end best when this sunset gets itself Behind that little lady sitting on the passenger side It's much less picturesque without her catching the light The horizon tries

But you let me down Don't you let me down today I need your love I feel so blind When I rise and rise 'Cause I feel so high and I need your love It all seems so fine, and on the way See pictures in my brain

Seems like lately there's a whole lot of leavin' goin' on I close my eyes and picture you're hand in mine I still hear your voice that takes me back to that time Where I can find a reason to be strong It's pretty cold for late September And autumn wind

When you touch me in that way, I just don't know what to do, love I'm so in love You don't seem to understand me when I say I'm feeling blu love I can't get you out my mind You send me pictures I ain't calling crisis You send the pictures If your harp is

I’m reaching for the door And I don’t understand why it has to be this way Lock the door, me in the closet But it’s just too hard on me, oh So come back home Picture of you in my pocket It’s all I really have left of you And it’s not enough to keep me

The sound of my heart The beat goes on and on and on and on and You make me feel good Come on to me, come on to me now Boom boom boom clap You're picture perfect blue Sunbathing on the moon Stars shining as your bones illuminate

If today was your last day And tomorrow was too late Could you say goodbye to yesterday? Would you live each moment like your last? Leave old pictures in the past Donate every dime you have? Would you call old friends you never see? Reminisce old

Andrew's a star fighter pilot He can get high in his jet Tells me about all his women He can get any I'll bet He knows all the girls in the world He's better than James Kirk or Tweeky I cradle his picture at night You know I'll think of you Your picture

And it's your face I'm looking for on every street There's gotta be a record of you someplace You gotta be on somebody's books The lowdown, a picture of your face Your injured looks The sacred and profane The pleasure and the pain Somewhere your