Lyrics:
talk about my race on the whole first album
But black vs white bullshit was the still the outcome
How come these motherfuckers can't seem to let it go
Next album that you hear
The last from me
Feeling hella eager
To be leaving 2020
Yeah
Dead by Dawn, 2021
Coming soon
Album number two
But for now
I guess
by the morning’s first light
Got to be getting on
One side of an album, babe
No time for breakfast, babe
I’ll be your once in a while
I’m back
And if I was rolling we'd be talking all the way
See your photo every time
I hop up on the MTA
Cause right by my metro card I left a little photo
It's
here to stay, I ain't hiding, got a album on the way
Spend a bag to feel okay and get it back by the day
Dancing with my demons, different reasons
Feel
E = Mad Skillz
A yo it's me, the M to the A to the D, Skillz ripping drum fills
And I end it with a Z. I'm nice on the mic but that ain't hard
[Royce Da 5'9"]
Yeah, yeah
Well it's the uhh, uhh, abbrevia-ated letter
Associated with meta-metapho-phores and cheddar cheddar
The C.O.D
only fuck with does presented by an A list
See defining me as an Oracle na under statement
No disrespect but no repeat ama pa legend
Many many other
smoking D
Every rap I ever made was about this town
I made 7 whole albums with no James Brown
And even though I love his music, I just can't stand
homeboys put vogues on any car
With 6 by 9's smoking burners
Everybody got addicted to my dopefiend beat
Whole town fucked around and started smoking D
s'arrêter
Bientôt le nouvel album de ma Psykatraaa !
Ok
D'accord je reprends le débit sans limite mes gimmicks font crier
Les zéniths de l'Europe et l'Afrique
else)
Fuck arguing and harvesting the feelings, yo, I'd rather be by my fucking self
(Self, self, self, self)
'Til about two AM And I call back and I
by tonight
Just a little push, and you'll be smilin'
So you play your albums, and you smoke your pot
And you meet your girlfriend in the parking
pas en voir un seul qui contracte"
Ce jour où j'ai choisi de changer de programme
Et carrément d'mettre ma télé en stand-by
Le jour où j'ai vu qu'à
I'd want to read you, get between your covers
And really know you, hey baby
Take you word by word, know your every line
Chorus.
I wouldn't put you
No I.D.
Make a couple platinum records in that bitch and then I dip up out it
On the 101, my wife text me
Talkin' 'bout, "You gotta get home, feed
by tonight
Just a little push, and you'll be smilin'
So you play your albums, and you smoke your pot
And you meet your girlfriend in the parking
This album's dedicated to you
Katie
The Bonnie to my Clyde
I know sometimes I be getting outta pocket and all
But the truth of it is
I'm just so
Dj doc you know he's down with us
D-square, he's down with us
Keyboard money mike, is down with us
Icu, you know he's down with us
D-nice and mcboo,
Instagram
Every day that goes by it feels
Just a little bit more unreal. I know
I told you I’d be okay without you
Now I’m writing this song just to tell you
these people albums I'm a charity too
I produce my own beats
I write by myself 'cause I'm a lyrical G
Record my own vids
Make a whole doc
Do my own media
watching friends again PLEASE
stream every album out by john lee hooker
watch TJ Hooker or Booker, play snooker
just don't htink about monica's
'Babe, that's what I thought'
I'm ready to fucking go
Finna roast a bitch you already know
Make an album then I make my dough
I'm all the way up
aiming for the ceiling floor
Album number 4 I’m just running up the score I can feel it in my core steady creeping in the door
Niggas hate the way I
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