A limes ( /ˈlaɪmiːz/) was a border defense or delimiting system of Ancient Rome. It marked the boundaries of the Roman Empire.
The Latin noun limes had a number of different meanings: a path or balk delimiting fields, a boundary line or marker, any road or path, any channel, such as a stream channel, or any distinction or difference. In Latin, the plural form of limes is limites.
The word limes, hence, was utilized by Latin writers to denote a marked or fortified frontier. This latter sense has been adapted and extended by modern historians concerned with the frontiers of the Roman Empire; e.g., Hadrian's wall in the north of England is sometimes styled the Limes Britannicus, the frontier of the Roman province of Arabia facing the desert is called the Limes Arabicus, and so forth.
So far the traditional definition and use of the term. It is now more common to accept that "limes" is not a term used by the Romans for the imperial frontier, fortified or not. This is a modern, anachronistic interpretation. The term became common after the third century when it denoted a military district under the command of a "dux limitis"
Brad Douglas Paisley (born October 28, 1972) is an American singer-songwriter and musician. His style crosses between traditional country music and Southern rock, and his songs are frequently laced with humor and pop culture references.
Paisley was the 2008 CMA and ACM Male Vocalist of the Year winner. Starting with the release of his 1999 album Who Needs Pictures, Paisley has recorded seven studio albums and a Christmas compilation on the Arista Nashville label, with all of his albums certified gold or higher by the RIAA. In addition, he has charted 25 singles on the U.S. Billboard Hot Country Songs chart, 16 of which have reached #1 with a record 10 consecutive singles reaching the top spot on the chart. On November 10, 2010, Paisley won the Entertainer of the Year award at the 44th annual CMA Awards.
Paisley was born on October 28, 1972 in Glen Dale, West Virginia to Douglas Edward "Doug" Paisley, who worked for the West Virginia Department of Transportation, and Sandra Jean "Sandy" (née Jarvis) Paisley, a teacher. He was raised in Glen Dale, West Virginia. He has stated that his love of country music stems from his maternal grandfather, Warren Jarvis, who gave Paisley his first guitar, a Sears Danelectro Silvertone at 8-years-old and taught him how to play. At age 10, he performed for the first time in public by singing in his church. He later recalled that, "Pretty soon, I was performing at every Christmas party and Mother's Day event. The neat thing about a small town is that when you want to be an artist, by golly, they'll make you one". At age 12, Paisley wrote his first song, entitled, "Born on Christmas Day". He had been taking lessons with local guitarist Clarence "Hank" Goddard. By age 13, Goddard and Paisley formed a band called "Brad Paisley and the C-Notes", with the addition of two of Paisley's adult friends.
USHER, baby
I hear you, yeah
Rock with me
Hey girl, I'm debating if I should take you home
Should I take you home?
I don't mean to keep you waiting
But I just gotta know
If you're ready
She says she wanna take her skirt off
Be my guest!
I decided to take my shirt off
And show my chest!
And we been sipping on that merlot
So you know what's next
Working intermissions, switching positions
We so explicit oh!
You've been saying all night long
That you couldn't wait to get me home alone
What you gon' do to me
Don't talk about it, be about it
Let me see, let me see, let me see
Girl I can't wait to get you home
Talk a good game mate, come on
Holler 'bout what you gon' do to me
Don't talk about it, be about it
Let me see, let me see, let me see
I've been anticipating
What you would do to me
What you gon' do to me
Sex babe, it's the occasion
Hands on when you're with me
Can you handle me, yeah
She says she wanna take her skirt off
Be my guest!
I decided to take my shirt off
And show my chest!
And we been sipping on that merlot
So you know what's next
Working intermissions, switching positions
We so explicit oh!
You've been saying all night long
That you couldn't wait to get me home alone
What you gon' do to me
Don't talk about it, be about it
Let me see, let me see, let me see
Girl I can't wait to get you home
Talk a good game mate, come on
Holler 'bout what you gon' do to me
Don't talk about it, be about it
Let me see, let me see, let me see[Rick Ross - Rap Verse]
Got on all my ice, talkin cash shit
Been ballin all my life, lamborghinis fast whips
She down to ride and deserves a boss who down to provide
We run the streets, but on G-5's im talkin fly
Boots and blue jeans cartier newer rings
You wit a big boy so we do the big things
Had to vallet park it, chanel hoodie on
lookin like Treyvon Martin George Zimmerman on wanted
She on my wanted posters, ciroc an my mimosa
im balling like lebron, we shoppin in milan
the 450 8 ferrari I park it on the lawn
I let her meet my tounge, she blew up like a bomb
The sex is so explosive, her stuff is supersonic
She my new addiction, I swear im through with chronic
Rosa and usher raymond, girl we the hottest
Rockin the most ice, I said we the hottest
You've been saying all night long
That you couldn't wait to get me home alone
What you gon' do to me
Don't talk about it, be about it
Let me see, let me see, let me see
Girl I can't wait to get you home
Talk a good game mate, come on
Holler 'bout what you gon' do to me
Don't talk about it, be about it
Si no creyera en la locura
De la garganta del sinsonte
Si no creyera que en el monte
Se esconde el trino y la pavura.
Si no creyera en la balanza
En la razón del equilibrio
Si no creyera en el delirio
Si no creyera en la esperanza.
Si no creyera en lo que agencio
Si no creyera en mi camino
Si no creyera en mi sonido
Si no creyera en mi silencio.
Que cosa fuera
Que cosa fuera la maza sin cantera
Un amasijo hecho de cuerdas y tendones
Un revoltijo de carne con madera
Un instrumento sin mejores resplandores
Que lucecitas montadas para escena
Que cosa fuera -corazón- que cosa fuera
Que cosa fuera la maza sin cantera
Un testaferro del traidor de los aplausos
Un servidor de pasado en copa nueva
Un eternizador de dioses del ocaso
Jubilo hervido con trapo y lentejuela
Que cosa fuera -corazón- que cosa fuera
Que cosa fuera la maza sin cantera
Que cosa fuera -corazón- que cosa fuera
Que cosa fuera la maza sin cantera.
Si no creyera en lo mas duro
Si no creyera en el deseo
Si no creyera en lo que creo
Si no creyera en algo puro.
Si no creyera en cada herida
Si no creyera en la que ronde
Si no creyera en lo que esconde
Hacerse hermano de la vida.
Si no creyera en quien me escucha
Si no creyera en lo que duele
Si no creyera en lo que queda
Si no creyera en lo que lucha.
Que cosa fuera
Que cosa fuera la maza sin cantera
Un amasijo hecho de cuerdas y tendones
Un revoltijo de carne con madera
Un instrumento sin mejores resplandores
Que lucecitas montadas para escena
Que cosa fuera -corazón- que cosa fuera
Que cosa fuera la maza sin cantera
Un testaferro del traidor de los aplausos
Un servidor de pasado en copa nueva
Que cosa fuera -corazón- que cosa fuera
Que cosa fuera la maza sin cantera
Un eternizador de dioses del ocaso
Jubilo hervido con trapo y lentejuela
Que cosa fuera -corazón- que cosa fuera
Que cosa fuera la maza sin cantera
Que cosa fuera -corazón- que cosa fuera
Time,
Time,
Time, see what's become of me
While I looked around for my possibilities.
I was so hard to please.
Look around,
Leaves are brown,
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter.
Hear the Salvation Army band.
Down by the riverside's
Bound to be a better ride
Than what you've got planned.
Carry your cup in your hand.
And look around.
Leaves are brown.
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter.
Hang on to your hopes, my friend.
That's an easy thing to say,
But if your hopes should pass away
Simply pretend that you can build them again.
Look around,
The grass is high,
The fields are ripe,
It's the springtime of my life.
Seasons change with the scenery;
Weaving time in a tapestry.
Won't you stop and remember me
At any convenient time?
Funny how my memory skips
Looking over manuscripts
Of unpublished rhyme.
Drinking my vodka and lime,
I look around,
Leaves are brown,
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter.
Diesen Songtext können wir leider aus
Jugenschutzgründen nicht veröffentlichen.
Wir bitten um dein verständnis.
I walk by, I fall down
For warm black tar forms balls
And black tar baby
I'm in a lime house
I'm in a lime house
I'm in a lime house
I'm in a lime house
Fall..., stay for good
Oh live and live and live in the dark baby
Tar baby
I'm in a lime house
I'm in a lime house
I'm in a lime house
I'm in a lime house
I'm in a lime house
I'm in a lime house
I'm in a lime house
Si no creyera en la locura
de la garganta del cirzonte
si no creyera que en el monte
se esconde el trino y la pavura.
Si no creyera en la balanza
en la razon del equilibrio
si no creyera en el delirio
si no creyera en la esperanza.
Si no creyera en lo que agencio
si no creyera en mi camino
si no creyera en mi sonido
si no creyera en mi silencio.
Que cosa fuera
Que cosa fuera la maza sin cantera
un amacijo hecho de cuerdas y tendones
un revoltijo de carne con madera
un instrumento sin mejores resplandores
que lucecitas montadas para escena
que cosa fuera -corazon- que cosa fuera
que cosa fuera la maza sin cantera
un testaferro del traidor de los aplausos
un servidor de pasado en copa nueva
un eternizador de dioses del ocaso
jubilo hervido con trapo y lentejuela
que cosa fuera -corazon- que cosa fuera
que cosa fuera la maza sin cantera
que cosa fuera -corazon- que cosa fuera
que cosa fuera la maza sin cantera.
Si no creyera en lo mas duro
si no creyera en el deseo
si no creyera en lo que creo
si no ceyera en algo puro.
Si no creyera en cada herida
si no creyera en la que ronde
si no creyera en lo que esconde
hacerse hermano de la vida.
Si no creyera en quien me escucha
si no creeyera en lo que duele
si no creyera en lo que queda
si no creyera en lo que lucha.
Que cosa fuera...
On an empty bus at midnight at the border between two worlds,
Neither of which knows my name.
Mosquitos and the driver's snores weave a lullaby around my wrists,
That feels like handcuffs.
After hours of motion, watching the world spin by
Through a one and a half foot by one and a half foot portal,
I am in complete stillness.
And I feel that I am suffering from lack-of-motion sickness.
I close my eyes and the world spins by,
Taking me to the edge of my mind.
I open my eyes and the sky unfolds.
I walk by, I fall down
For warm black tar forms balls
And black tar baby
I'm in a lime house
I'm in a lime house
I'm in a lime house
I'm in a lime house
Fall..., stay for good
Oh live and live and live in the dark baby
Tar baby
I'm in a lime house
I'm in a lime house
I'm in a lime house
I'm in a lime house
I'm in a lime house
I'm in a lime house
I'm in a lime house
Shout out to Scram Jones!!!
Clinton Sparks in the building
IT'S SMASH TIME!
[Verse 1:]
It ain't nothin for me to roll wit twelve fire arms
The kid got more beef than Hillshire Farms
But I ain't gon turn my shit into some sausage
I'm gonna turn my beef into some coffins
Flow so sick I'm nauseous
I ain't signed yet, these labels makin me BS often
I don't care, its all they loss, the price is only gon go up
Nigga im gonna blow up, American Music Awards, yea I'm gon show up
When I win one of them, I'm gonna throw up
Yup, right on whoever's in-front of me
I came from the P, ain't nobody in this bitch that can front on me
Aint nobody shutter me, I'm under my own wing
A.B. nigga, yea I'm runnin' my own thing
Smile ery'time the phone rings, ‘cause I know its money on the other end
Not my homie's lover-friend, gotta bring the shovel in
Im buryin' these niggas careers
To me it appears they all queers
They what we call pimps, we need more squares
Who wanna holla back? In-fact I'm all ears
[Chorus:]
These lames (these lames)
They fuckin' up the game
(Niggas fuckin' up the game, said these lames fuckin' up the game)
It's a shame the way that things change
[Repeat]
[Verse 2:]
Anytime you wanna know about Saigon
Go to what type of thug are you w.com
Put through the fire like Chaka Kahn
Seen all of the stop signs but to me them jokers was jus octagons
Couldn't tell me I was not the bomb
Lil nigga couldn't fight but I was quick to cock a nine
Never quick to drop a dime
Even though niggas dropped dimes on my bout fifty-eleven times
Crime time, this is a fine time to rhyme
Im feelin like a million, word to my mom
Im glad all of yall niggas chasin' a dame
I'll DMX the game wit no sets to claim
Throw it all on my back wit jail bars on my arm
War scars on my hear from gettin' it on
Cap sacky nigga, they backed me nigga
They feelin my tracks and Clinton back
I fuck around and go platinum off jail niggas alone
What up Nap-Nap how yall love that?
Nutten fragen mich: "Savas, wieso bist du im Bett so ne Kanone?"
Kein Plan! Ich glaub, ich hab einfach zuviel Hormone!
Ich belohne geile Hoes mit Scheiße auf die Titten,
ich fick' dich so tief in dein Loch, dass mein Schwanz mit deinen Rippen
flirtet, Ficksau, ich bums' dich in die Klinik!
Bitch: Fresse! Bevor ich dir den Sack in den Mund presse,
sieh, ich scheiße auf dein Brot und denkst es wäre Aufstrich,
dann riechst du, dass es Kacke is' und ich scheiße auf dich,
also red' nich! Mich in den Po zu ficken geht nicht,
mein Schwanz denkt von alleine, deiner lebt nicht,
seht mich an, gegen mich is' Bruce Willis 'n Witz,
deine Braut macht auf prüde, doch sie will es und ich spritz'
ihr ohne Kommentare in die Augen, bis sie blind is',
Gott hat mich gemacht, damit ihr seht, was n Pimp is'!
Alle Nutten mit viel Geld - Lutscht meinen Schwanz!
Alle Fotzen ohne Hirn - Lutscht meinen Schwanz!
Alle Mädels, die mich mögen - Lutscht meinen Schwanz!
Alle Frauen dieser Welt - Lutscht meinen Schwanz!
Du bist n mieses Stück Scheiße und wirst nie in deinem Leben auch nur
10% von den Mösen sehen, die ich schon hatte,
also schleim nicht, ich geh nackt auf die Bühne und bin nicht peinlich,
ich will 15 Stunden ficken, also Nutte sei nicht kleinlich,
scheiß auf Krebs und Therapien, ich geb' Workshops im Bocken,
ich bin fortschrittlich, fickrig und hab' Noppen auf meinem Schwansen,
ich fick' dich tief in den Pansen, oh mansen!
Ich rammel geile Löcher bis zum Fransen,
Frauen scheißt auf Banden! Bildet Puffs und Bordelle,
da gibt's viel für euch zu tun und fett Monetas auf die Schnelle,
meine Bälle wiegen gemeinsam 4 Zentner,
du denkst, du hast es drauf, doch du rammelst wie 'n Rentner,
Savas kommt und Fotzen fangen an zu würgen,
geht's um's Ficken werd' ich ungerecht wie Türken,
ich bin der Rap-Udo Jürgens und bürge für meine Eichel,
egal, ob Nutten sportlich sind, ich ficke sie zu Leichen!
Alle Nutten mit viel Geld - Lutscht meinen Schwanz!
Alle Fotzen ohne Hirn - Lutscht meinen Schwanz!
Alle Mädels, die mich mögen - Lutscht meinen Schwanz!
Alle Frauen dieser Welt - Lutscht meinen Schwanz!
Nutten fragen mich: "Savas, wieso bist du im Bett so ne Kanone?"
Kein Plan! Ich glaub, ich hab einfach zuviel Hormone!
Ich belohne geile Hoes mit Scheiße auf die Titten,
ich fick' dich so tief in dein Loch, dass mein Schwanz mit deinen Rippen flirtet,
Ficksau, ich bums' dich in die Klinik! Bitch: Fresse!
Bevor ich dir den Sack in den Mund presse,
sieh, ich scheiße auf dein Brot und Du denkst es wäre Aufstrich,
doch dann riechst du, dass es Kacke is' und ich scheiße auf dich,
also red' nich! Mich in den Po zu ficken geht nicht,
mein Schwanz denkt von alleine, deiner lebt nicht,
seht mich an, gegen mich is' Bruce Willis 'n Witz,
deine Braut macht auf prüde, doch sie will es und ich spritz'
ihr ohne Kommentare in die Augen, bis sie blind is',
Gott hat mich gemacht, damit ihr seht, was n Pint is'!
Refrain:
Alle Nutten mit viel Geld - Lutscht meinen Schwanz!
Alle Fotzen ohne Hirn - Lutscht meinen Schwanz!
Alle Mädels, die mich mögen - Lutscht meinen Schwanz!
Alle Frauen dieser Welt - Lutscht meinen Schwanz!
Du bist n mieses Stück Scheiße
und wirst nie in deinem Leben auch nur 10% von den Mösen sehen,
die ich schon hatte, also schleim nicht,
ich geh nackt auf die Bühne und bin nicht peinlich,
ich will 15 Stunden ficken, also Nutte sei nicht kleinlich,
scheiß auf Cremes und Therapien, ich geb' Workshops im Bocken,
ich bin fortschrittlich, fickrig und hab' Noppen
auf 'mSchwansen,
ich fick' dich tief in den Pansen, oh mansen!
Ich rammel geile Löcher bis sie fransen,
Frauen scheißt auf Banden! Bildet Puffs und Bordelle,
da gibt's viel für euch zu tun und fett Moneytoes auf die Schnelle,
meine Bälle wiegen gemeinsam 4 Zentner,
du denkst, du hast es drauf, doch du rammelst wie 'n Rentner,
Savas kommt und Fotzen fangen an zu würgen,
geht's um's Ficken werd' ich ungerecht wie Türken,
ich bin der Rap-Udo Jürgens und bürge für meine Eichel,
egal, ob Nutten sportlich sind, ich ficke sie zu Leichen!
Refrain:
Alle Nutten mit viel Geld - Lutscht meinen Schwanz!
Alle Fotzen ohne Hirn - Lutscht meinen Schwanz!
Alle Mädels, die mich mögen - Lutscht meinen Schwanz!
Alle Frauen dieser Welt - Lutscht meinen Schwanz!