Lyrics:
And cop my album please
We got the ganja surrounding good vibes in every place
I'm on a level unclouded by negativity
Nothing to say
Trees from the golden
handicaps and made it here without one
On my last album I was going insane
I still am just by now I've gotten used to the pain
Take more green to my head
production's tight
Sometimes I might catch a severe case of writer's block
But by the end of the day you'll be on my jock
My name's malik my hobby's putting
and radio and poster hype
Now that 3,000 people lost their jobs, I'm a see how your record do
But you're stuttering out your boo boo, can't give a decent
with another family man, never pop a Xan
but it's getting way out a hand
Now I gotta hear everything I'm working with
Gotta give it to God I'm getting
as gods
That's the dumbest shit I've ever
Heard in my motherfuckin' life
You need to set the fuck down somewhere (Ahh)
(Um, on this new album I've
Got uh
A lot of my poems and writings seem to start with me waking up,
or being in a dream, or dream like state.
Now, this implies a certain level of abstraction
beaten
Choked and bullied by a fat guy
Now he’s somewhere hanging out with fake thugs and
fucking up his own life
But now I’m in a new level, I got
and diss you
Everyone saw me on the last album cover
Holding a pistol, something far from a
Lover, beside my brother, s-c-o-t-t
I just laugh 'cause no one
so you're out on
The Yeezus tour right now which, first
Your album is awesome the live show sold
Out at Staples on Saturday night
You got another one
popping pills)
Fuckin a bitch while watching porn
ADHD on another level
Don't say bitch in a sentence
(That's fucking impossible)
This my world, like Nas
No
production's tight
Sometimes I might catch a severe case of writer's block
But by the end of the day you'll be on my jock
My name's Malik my hobby's putting
Memories
They taunt me like a bird caged by scorched wings
Puzzle pieces missing
The grubby fingerprints that kissed the walls have vanished
Like
don't care bout album numbers
It's crazy looking at my life through my album covers
I used hustle till my spine crack so I define rap
Now I just kick back
payin' wages out of this money I'm stacking
Should've made a transition by now,
but I'm back in
There's no clothes in these suitcases that I've been
and the sword
Griselda Records nigga
It's the fuckin' almighty
Used to camp in the line
Now I'm getting boxes from Nike (ow)
Shoutout the Flygod's by Nike
Shout
know I could never tell
But you know I'm schooling niggas, teach you how to make a sale
Why you got your hand out when I did it by myself
Get the fuck up
The album 'bout to drop, this whole year look like a rollout
They was actin' like they ain't know but I bet they know now (I bet they know now)
Grr, uh
Red blade with the wind, rain
Ima sensei by the pen way
Ima kick it, not Lui Kang
Like a centaur, with a feng shui
With low top and a flute playing
Red blade with the wind, rain
Ima sensei by the pen way
Ima kick it, not Lui Kang
Like a centaur, with a feng shui
With low top and a flute playing
sick of me Me and DC got a album, no, I can't be stopped in this shit
No one is on my level, so don't ask for a feature Ain't hoppin' on shit
These
understand
You
You asked to be put on this level and I ignored you
And now I see
[?]
So the bong is where I stare
Girl. You know I love you, girl. You
wait 'til the album's through
So many controversies over the
Language in rap
It wasn't a cuss that started a fuss
Now that's just a Black thing
Figure
production's tight
Sometimes I might catch a severe case of writer's block
But by the end of the day you'll be on my jock
My name's Malik my hobby's putting
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