A Quote by Biz Markie

Don't you like when the winter's gone, And all of a sudden it starts gettin' warm? The trees and the grass start lookin' fresh, And the sun and sky be lookin' their best. — © Biz Markie
Don't you like when the winter's gone, And all of a sudden it starts gettin' warm? The trees and the grass start lookin' fresh, And the sun and sky be lookin' their best.
That's the kinda dude I was lookin fo & yes you'll get slapped if you lookin hoe
It was missing a piece. And it was not happy. So it set off in search of its missing piece. And as it rolled it sang this song - "Oh I'm lookin' for my missin' piece I'm lookin' for my missin' piece Hi-dee-ho, here I go, Lookin' for my missin' piece.
Oh I'm lookin' for my missin' piece I'm lookin' for my missin' piece Hi-dee-ho, here I go, Lookin' for my missin' piece
I'm not going for a soft sound. I ain't lookin' for a warm sound. My sound is warm, but I don't need tubes to do it. The Randall RG-100 is the best amp for what I do.
I ain't lookin' at you dudes -I'm lookin' past you.
I was lookin' high an' low for them Reds everywhere, I was lookin' in the sink an' underneath the chair. I looked way up my chimney hole, I even looked deep inside my toilet bowl.
Throw high risers at the chin; throw peas at the knees; throw it here when they're lookin' there; throw it there when they're lookin' here.
It gives one a sudden start in going down a barren, stoney street, to see upon a narrow strip of grass, just within the iron fence, the radiant dandelion, shining in the grass, like a spark dropped from the sun.
Don’t be lookin up at no sky for help. Look down here, at us twisted dreamers.
That sun is lookin' good... and hot! Get it? Hilarious! My joke writers are awesome.
I think he just gets like this sometimes. Like he needs to pull away. I think of it like winter. During winter, it isn't that the sun is gone (or cheating on you with another planet). You can still see it in the sky. It's just farther away.
Who was the best pilot I ever saw? You're lookin' at 'im.
The naked earth is warm with Spring, And with green grass and bursting trees Leans to the sun's kiss glorying, And quivers in the sunny breeze.
This is the day of wonders. The land is covered with trees like a head with hair and behind the ship the sun rises tipping the top trees with light. The sky is clear and shining as a china plate and the water playfully ruffled with wind. Every wisp of fog is gone and the air is full of the resinous smell of the trees. Seabirds are flashing above the sails golden like creatures from Heaven, but the sailors raise a few shots to keep them from the rigging.
My birthplace was California, but I couldn't forget Armenia, so what is one's country? Is it land of the earth, in a specific place? Rivers there? Lakes? The sky there? The way the moon comes up there? And the sun? Is one's country the trees, the vineyards, the grass, the birds, the rocks, the hills and summer and winter? Is it the animal rhythm of the living there? The huts and houses, the streets of cities, the tables and chairs, and the drinking of tea and talking? Is it the peach ripening in summer heat on the bough? Is it the dead in the earth there?
Stop lookin' at what you ain't got, and start being thankful for what you do got.
This site uses cookies to ensure you get the best experience. More info...
Got it!