Lyrics:
door
So I said, ?Hey baby, I need some room to breathe?
Please believe, we'll go our seperate ways
Then like the critics, she had something to say
Have a much stronger appeal
The real American folksong is a rag
A mental jag
A rhythmic tonic for the chronic blues
The critics called it a "joke
the underground, the rebel, a lower level
They came to see the maniac psychopath
The critics heard of me, and the aftermath
I don't give a damn and it shows
we're artistic persons
Who play the fiddle
When critics hear us, they declare
The rest are all so many worse 'uns
Who play the fiddle we're from the best
make sure my casket's closed
Rap critics that say he's Money, Cash, Hoes
I'm from the hood stupid
What type of facts are those
If you grew up with holes
there were reviews in
Billboard and Cash Box
But they were by professional critics
And they rarely reflect
The opinions of the public the critics were
appeal
The real American folk song is a rag
A mental jag a rhythmic tonic
For the chronic blues
The critics called it a joke song, but now
They've changed
on my back
Someone please take me home
The critics who
Can't break you
They somehow help to make you
The critics who
Can't break you
a live my life like I should (like I should)
Now all the critics wanna hit it
Ya shit can how we did it
Just because they don't get it
But I'll stay
clown
And I'm livid when the critics give us frowns
Trippin' with this nigga's sound
Yup, I get it now
Get it, me and you, we are not the same
We
the songs ain't sharp, trust me they ain't making the cut
You don't like it?
I'm no teacher, but you'll learn to adjust
I'm my own worst critic, so
The sooky-sooky, bringin it from the sewer it's the Boogie Bang
Use to kick the rookie slang, critics wonder "Could he hang?"
Drop my first joint and made
speak my mind and I don't worry who,
Might disagree or what anyone might say
I don't listen to the critics
Believin' all their cynics
I don't need
Too many critics and not enough rhymes
This was fake that was real KRS I bust lines
Get mine yeah it's the Teacha blazing your speaker
First I want
work for me.
If I do this shit right, niggas in school are gonna work for me.
If I listen to the critics I know that this shit ain't gonna work for me.
critics talk got them stalking waiting on me
To trip I’ll show em I can’t be tipped you
Oops ain’t slick steady hated on me
Word around they got a lot
Im Smoking Your lyrics
Asking my girl why you robbing my spirit?
We was cool but it ended in critic
We separate our visions
In school I was bad in
a thousand times
I try to fight it
All these critics in my head
I lie in silence
Beneath miles of endless sky
You're waiting in the wings
You're pulling all
Gassed up ain’t got time to hit the break
When I’m in my stride can not make mistakes
Lot of critics always got something to say
Good or bad they
to last in it
Been dealing with haters all my life
I always had critics when im round they crickets
Life in the fast lane trying to dodge a crash ending
Cel mai mare fan, cel mai mare critic al meu
Eu - Uneori cred in mine, alteori AtEu
Și contează să-ți placă
Dar n-o să calc pe mine pentru asta
I smell a bag coming, I'm losing my patience
I just wanna be great, fuck what the critics say, I feel like a Laker
Up to the top on my way that's
like I used to
When I was new to
Dropping the masquerade
She designed
Taught me how to be
My own worst critic though
Critic of her habits
Hypocritical
what I think
I'm gonna kick me to the curb
And pick me back up where the critic fell
Cause I'll never be good enough for myself
I'm free
To finally live
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