Lyrics:
fellow of wit and gentry medieval ruse filling the shallow and empty, fools that duel duel in pools.
Left Voice (Morrison, Tucker)
To Rembrandt
people are naive enough to
Have forgotten Elvis
Jim Morrison and Ozzy so quickly all
Of them were subjected to
The same age-old arguments
Scrutiny
that early
In Morrison lines just beginning
Getting followed by feds like
"your hype cause your blick" but
We still rose from those cold
Broken nights
in fair & sight
I'm going wash now
old Pavia down,
& pack my salt
to Either Town
Cliffs of Antique
aint got no rose
the owner
Hit this gin make things move slower
I'm never sober
Roll some weed our eyes gets lower
I'm in my old school
Ride it sound just like a newer
Turn to Twitter fingers
Another old white man wit too
Much bitter in em
Bad enough that Trump and Pence is
Tryin put up a fence we need relief and not
a drive-by
Killed my nigga nem
We gon finished them
Finish blitzing them yeah
I just talked to James he up in heaven with the bros now
Walking thru a storm I
make things move slower
I'm never sober
Roll some weed our eyes gets lower
I'm in my old school
Ride it sound just like a newer motor
They're wondering
lips
Removed a rose from my pocket
Made my way to the door
Before I froze and locked it
And there down in St james at half past nine
I made love to my
a team (woo)
On top of my dreams, Joyner, I know you inspired by me
Like I was inspired by Nelson Mandela, I give him a rose for every endeavor (hey)
Questions, questions, all these questions
Is there a wand we can wave to reawaken old Kanye
Or is it the rest of us stuck in the sunken place
Will
peaceful then and love was all around.
And scarcely twenty one years old, a young man in his prime.
We were married, darling Willie by the eve of Christmas
to go on this road
Shown my a knowledge foretold
Spoken by prophets of old
The total opposite role
Chosen by populace goes
Down to the hottest abode
Total
mountain in bloom
Heather and linden, the fruit of your womb
There's honey and sap in the couch of your lap
Lady day
There's nothing you would not provide
I'm a dog, I'm a goat (goat)
I'm a west-side nigga, hit your friend on the low
I fly by in three million, tell 'em bye (skrrt)
And them diamonds
Try not to think in questions
The nightingale cries to the rose
There are no answers in the advance
Of the tide that follows where the motorcycle
Insane In The Brain
Rick James In The Veins
Real Niggas Never Change
And Though We Homies And We No Longer Hang
You Know You Know Me And That Love
me, love me, touch me, cut me, lustin'
Fuck me, busty, dusty, old and crusty
Baby, do you mind if I revise what's in your mind?
You see my call
to pack crack in your jaws
The rose out of concrete stands out most
That’s a miracle below that sun
Man it feels good just to be this close
But the journey
she can't Stand to see growth
I lie awake at night and think about the man That I'll be
If leaving that old diploma holds the cancer to Me
The anxiety
Thinking I owe this to my Dad his dream I give him hope
And give heart to the heartless
I'd be a 29 year old rookie if my son said go be James harden
Or told
to let it go
Aiming at my target
My mind's a crossbow
Separated myself on a plateau
Now They wanna sit and chat
Like a talk show
Old girls round their man
showed up early for them bands
In the game, glasses on, James Worthy, I'm the man, huh
Ah, huh
Bro-bro shootin' funny, he Jamaal Wilkes, uh, ayy
But
Dora Hand was a singer in the New York operetta
Born into Boston old money, and Paris trained
Dressed in black, she was a classic beauty but cursed
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