Lyrics:
of Temu
Your raps so bad you might as well remove it entirely off of YouTube
You ain't gonna be the next Ice Cube
You say we can't rap but all your verses
Yeah time to put it down E
Time to put it down E
EPMD Millineum Ducats DefCon 9 2 G's
Uh huh yeah
Yeah it's like this why'all it's like
look at The Birth of
Black America by Andrew Frank
Take that to the bank
Let me rock again, hip-hop again
Check out Africa: Mother of Western
bump that bass
Wit that sanctafied sound produced by that playa Chase
Like Mase, 'I'm fittin, makin ya feel so good'
When I bump this gospel music in
We all agree tonight all of the speakers have
Agreed that America has a
Very serious problem
Not only does America have
A very serious problem
But
Yo what up this is motherfucking Lucidic music
Yeah what I'm back at it to fucking spit It 2021
Ya fucking bitch you can't stop you You can't see it
difference they're all the same!
It just depends on what's your point of view
America, America the big wedge
And they're buying up your tomorrow with
difference they're all the same!
It just depends on what's your point of view
America, America the big wedge
And they're buying up your tomorrow with
skunk
Melt down plastic punks
One punchline tongues fell out
I'm well rounded
Edgy and sharp as a barbed fence now
Ten thousand hours by the time
I was
truth
Gripping for a limit but I hang by the noose
Look at me, I don't look nothing at all like you
Church full of hypocrites, they all like you
Well,
privilege and do nothing at all, I don't know
Hip-hop has always been political, yes
It's the reason why this music connects
So what the fuck has happened
HERE is a story about fame i heard
It first as a fable in Somalia
Before living it out in America
The fox, they say, once had an elegant walk
For
Yeah Buddy
Sak got that fire in him
A passion to spit bars and share the gospel
What?
You thought it was over, it's never over
Follow me as I follow
The Radiophonic Workshop was set up in 1958
To provide a service for radio and television
To provide special sounds ranging from science fiction
I been caught up in my dreams thinking bout' you
Writing all this music in my sleep feel like a fortune
Got me at my best when I'm alone I still
the shack
Picking cotton for a living keep 'em on the right track
Visiting the nieghbours trying to spread the good news
Singing gospel music with
not the music that dies
Now listen up, our life support machine
Was brought to life by remarkable hands
Forget about the Hell we've seen
The time has
on Sunday, Bloody Sunday
(What about Texas?) They need to chill with the gun play
(New York city y'all) Police are at the door
the Magnum was by
From holdin a stature of clear submission
By not speaking we're giving approval
These times we're living
We all need grace and forgiveness
We're back
Notre Dame
Golden Arms is bronze, buddah palm hit Qu'ran
It blows extreme, mean stream be the theme
Supreme team, America's Cream Team, redeemed
Vidal
the devil in my head
Communication coming in
Too much that I can't communicate with all of them
I do wish I had scientist or engineer friends, let's go
when you come home, hold on
To all of my fellas up in jail that's in there gettin' swell
That ordered my music, bought my music through music-by-mail
We
Universal and WEA
Only four labels in the music industry bruh
All radio controlled by two companies
Just two rap magazines
Read between the lines
Hip-hop used
One, two, one
Everyday I pray for mankind
We're all slaves to a generation socialized and sickness is in the mind
We are habitual thinkers,
Discuss these all and all by gospel music workshop of america Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In