The word that almost makes me throw up is satin; damask makes me throw up.
Just take the ball and throw it where you want to. Throw strikes. Home plate don’t move.
Like their predecessors, the Presidents of today just throw up their hands.
I throw the ball ninety-two miles an hour, but they hit it back just as hard.
In California, they don’t throw their garbage away – they make it into TV shows.
Even on the most serious ballads, I’ll throw in a tongue-in-cheek remark.
I don’t throw my clothes out after one wear. Shocking, I know.
They would almost throw the cops in jail when they tried to arrest me.
I take time to get close to, and I don’t immediately throw my arms round someone.
I don’t go to clubs and throw money and pop bottles. That’s not my thing, no disrespect.