tengo en la mesa todos tus gestos de tu rompecabezas aun tengo en mi boca todos tus besos aun que no los merezcas no se donde tu te escondes pero hoy no me explico por que estoy perdido en el pasado todo lo que pudo ser estoy buscando sin sentido el

Girl, you really got me now You got me, so, I can't sleep at night Oh yeah, you really got me now You really got me You got me, so, I don't know where I'm goin', yeah You really got me, oh Please, don't ever let me be I only wanna be by your side Got me,

No one sees No one knows the pain No one sees what I see in you No one feels the same No one sees myself like you do DJ mash up, then mash up the deck The microphone champ is live and direct Tek time, everyting's live and that

Go go. Go Johnny go Johnny B. Goode Deep down in Louisiana close to New Orleans Way back up in the woods amongst the evergreens There stood an old cabin made of earth and wood Where lived a country boy named Johnny B. Goode That never ever learned to

Ooh and I'd lay my life down for you (woooooh) And I show you who's the boss (woooooh) I'd forgive you and adore you While I was hangin' on your cross If I was Jesus. I I was Jesus, I'd have some real long hair A robe and some sandals, is exactly what

And the cradle will rock Yes the cradle, cradle will rock And when some local kid gets down They try an' drum him outta town Oh yeah, get up

Or trees on the lawn Wind is always there, they're saying it's just air Let it blow through you Don't let it move you Like breeze off the pond What I'd look like trying to hide my life One of those guys, I'm a star, you should keep it low Nuh uh want a

Blowing money fast, blowing money fast Fuck being humble, fuck being humble Tell 'em that I'm strapped, I don't wanna rumble Running through the bag, running through the bag When you came from nothing, fuck being humble These niggas don't want it with

'Tão dá bundada Empina e joga na cara E as tchutchuca vêm Vai, aquece, se prepara Vai no chão com a bunda e rala 'Tamo doando pra toda as menina É memo? É nada! Pras mulher especializada

They cried the tears, they shed the fears, Up and down the land, They stole guitars or used guitars So the tape would understand, Without even the slightest hope of a thousand sales Just as if, as if there was, a Hitsville in U.K., I know the boy was all