Lyrics:
That you guys are going
Into, that seemed they had nothing to
Do with a rapper i was
Talking about a band of thinkers that
Could remove religion, race,
"Give me $1 million if you
Want the next album"
It's still sprinkling a bit when we dive back
Into the hired Lexus and head across the
East River
big-headed
Would you please stop talking about how my dick head is
Flow infectious, give me 10 seconds
I'll have a buzz bigger than insects in Texas
It's
care 'bout nothing 'cept to get this album out dog
Fuck e'ry body in the world of this outlaw
Coming to you live from my home studio
In south side
a five-minute gender-studies symposium
But Nicki shakes her head: "All it says is
'My anaconda don't' " Why are we
Talking about asses? she seems to
Be saying
in music
Over the last decade
WEST: I wasn't even nominated for Best
Album this year this year
I only got two nominations
By the Grammys: for
Best Rap
baby, the nature of the business is unstable
Especially when your project ain't properly promoted by your label
E'ry album I put out gold or platinum,
Cube today was a good day
Swung by Mickey D's, had a fish to fillet
All day, Ry say whatever comes to mind
Like, keep calling me son, cause the kid gon'
Yo ham, whassup, man?
Whassup, be-Down?
Ain't nothin' man, what you think 'bout all them fellas
Out there talking junk about you, man?
Oh, you
who know me
Very well are like
"Are you sure you're ok?" But I
Really am i've never been
This happy i'm so proud of
This album i'm proud
Of myself and I
a marker
Mainly what I write is for the average New Yorker
Some MC's be talking and talking
Trying to show how black people are walking
But I don't walk
For that white powder
A deuce deuce will leave little holes
In your top like salt shaker
Then I'll finish it off with a big cap
On your head like a park
All you know when the album drop my name gonna blow like bang!
I just bust down doors cuz all those watches never gonna be my thang
My shit bang when
take on a repeat
I die
Has that ended?
I die
Are you ended?
Take me to the
Crossroads
You crashed your car again, ripped your noze half off your head
nothing, leave them
Bare skeng talk, I can't believe them
The red and white R6 I'll leave them
Ed Hardy glasses I can't see them
So why you talking like you
Rewind the clip
Yeah, I'll start by taking back
It's Spring of '17
Sitting shotgun there in my car
You said celebrities are sad, no matter how big or small
are you?
You done dropped six albums in the past two years, and nobody knows who the fuck you are
If it ain't in God's plan, then it's not gonna happen,
more famous
Yeh this are the things that I remember happening
The highlights
According to my brain
Click start record
Alarm, it's 1:49 right now
Record
Do you know what it takes to even pick up a pen?
To sit and record the thoughts that overflow in your head
All of your deepest and twisted, personal,
on (come on)
I'm talking to you, come on the Working Hour
This is the working hour
We are paid by those who
Learn by our mistakes
This is the working hour
the rapper niggaz are clappin up anotha tell ev-a-ry one
Misery loves company so we done with thee
Enemy where he be energy sendin me the route
My
right now
Even though this helps me to sort my goals by priority
The time it will take me to finish my goals is not guaranteed
On top of that new
Covers, videos and all that shit
Fuck you post-Drake-ass cliche-jerking, LA-Slauson rapping
Fuck-nigga-ass Hypebeast niggas, now back to the album
in order to feed they kids
They gotta play that same shit over and
Over and over again i was raised by KRS
One, I was raised by Child Conquest
I was
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