Lyrics:
I don't know
It's like when you go to read your own poetry
You get all choked up
Listen up and I'll tell a story
About an artist growing old
I don't know
It's like when you go to read your own poetry
You get all choked up
Listen up and I'll tell a story
About an artist growing old
Listen up and I'll tell a story
About an artist growing old
Some would try for fame and glory
Others aren't so bold
Everyone in friends and family
Listen up and I'll tell a story
About an artist growing old
Some would try for fame and glory
Others aren't so bold
And everyone in friends
a pot of gold, by my rainbow lake
All these artists getting old, had to come and switch up the game game game.
I remember the time I got into beef and I
back to the school
But as Henry said
"School Kills Artists"
My old school was a piece of hell
I tried to kill myself
But i know my parents loves me
a job. No wonder you're so odd"
Oh god
So listen up and I'll tell a story
About an artist growing old
Some would try for fame and glory
Others just like
Trying hard to write songs by artists of old
Stuck without creativity, fearing the bold
Rivers of emotion captured behind eyes
Gazing cold as winter,
Listen up and i tell a story
about and artist growing old
Some would try for fame and glory
Others aren't so bold
And everyone from friends
But I've kicked back, observed, and
I'm honest... Watched 'em bleed 'em
Artists young and old
I can bring you to the top! Where'd this unwritten law
new artist with a old school deal. (yeah!)
Taught the game by Steve Lobell (yup!)
So we always win, don't receive no L's (nah!)
New girls act like
My skill set through my
Skills– I’m an artist five years
Old, art school PhD
Art Institute of Chicago i am an artist
I have a condition called
let the next artist sing the same old song
Six minutes mr. blu and you're on
Five minutes mr. blu and you're wrong
Fifteen minutes mr. blu you've been
flawless
Most hardest, most honest known artist
Chip off the old block, but old Doc is (back)
Looks like Batman brought his own Robin
Oh God, Saddam's
flawless
Most hardest, most honest known artist
Chip off the old block, but old Doc is (back)
Looks like Batman brought his own Robin
Oh God, Saddam's
artist since my old ones just left me with me
And rappers think that they the greatest just cuz they on the top
But if we talking true talent, they ain't
on the beat, you know I'm cookin' with that
Come a long way from some Mizzou-ligan trash
Now the bank account it's as true as the tracks
Bridge
New artists
can't just hold people hostage
And make them listen to you talk
In these unprecedented times
Artists new and old are coming together
To funnel the trauma
doorways
The Manhattan rain can be so cold
A shadow you will soon resemble
Starving like the artists in days old
Your pretty face is fading away
Like
or collars
Where scholars turn to fiends and dreams burn in the garbage
This struggling artist shit getting old
But regardless of my hand I'll never fold
I'm
slight bi*** perfection
Real cocaine ngga just profession
Punk artist anytime evolution
Old monk stoner sath bas 4yrs
Brok legs corner Music2 mhh ears
artists old news
I'm the wiz on the keys and the pro tools
Do the raps and tracks the player and the coach too
Watching mediocre rappers getting known quick
honest) artists young and old
I can bring you to the top (where'd this unwritten law come from anyway?)
That years after the contract you should still be
When I come around, round, round
They go
Yeah, yeah its going down, down, down
They go
New cat with a old school feel
Only new artist with a old
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