Lyrics:
have yet to see the sequel
I walk by faith & not by sight, I do it for my people
But if you still dreamin', I'm climbing over sleeping people
I know you
Bitch, I'm Bruce Wayne in the game
You just perpetrating from the side line
What it feel like? (Huh)
Metaphor game too silly
Punch lines way too silly
Bad mother, shut your mouth
Even though I might die if
I flood the drought
I'm Justin, you're just around
Shed light on the underground
Look, but
sprinkling
The album width to keep the registers ringing
In real life, I'm much more distinguished
I'm like a bloke from London, England
Yeah, you jingling
Caree-caree-caree-careers are fixin' to go
Right down the drain oG's I'm so scared
I think I just fake shit my pants oh yeah
Church Church Church
of it
Fuck ya girl, give her back I'm courteous
I can keep a secret with Vicky have a menage with Nicki
And be out London with Lauren and telling
days working in that hat shop
And I'd, just graduated, tryna figure out life
Just happened to pass by and had our worlds collide
And now I'm back up in
stadiums just like Billy Joel
Quincy Jones would be in my studio
Recording Phill Collins on the drums for my album
All paid for by my own discography
Oh
on the map,
Turns out I was stuck in London tryin’ to rap
I gather I’m still fighting the conservatories
But you’ll here, I’ve got a new album called Ghost
on the map,
Turns out I was stuck in London tryin’ to rap
I gather I’m still fighting the conservatories
But you’ll here, I’ve got a new album called Ghost
the rhythm I'm lending
The message I'm sending from London to Linley
Girls are given a chance to get ya all pampered
Leave them ol' cramps in your pants
touring make some extra cream
But the experience was priceless
They get me keen and now I'm driven by a
Force that's impossible to visualise
I'm driven like
the cartel (Uh, huh)
Bag heavy, pick it up, it
Feel like I'm liftin' barbells, yeah
Turkey Backwoods, smokin' out the pound
London pound wrapped in my vibe
I
'Bach
I'm the realest that run it, I just happen to rap
I ain't gotta clap at 'em, niggas scared of that black
I drop that "Black Album" then I back,
'Bach
I'm the realest that run it, I just happen to rap
I ain't gotta clap at 'em, niggas scared of that black
I drop that "Black Album" then I back,
PARIS Fashion has a new odd couple:
Bernard Arnault and Kanye West
The luxury titan turned out Saturday
Night for an impromptu concert
By West in
london town and
I'm pushing out music
Like I'm begging for wishes from a fountain
Yeah
My accountant is me
This is my life provocatively
Positivity has
(here in london where the rain is pouring down)
I wish you were here
(on this airplane headed back to new york town)
I'll never leave you alone again
I'm
and four chords repeated
Completed by a relatable lyrical concept about an ex or something
This isn't for the masses
It's for the
musically analytical
So
bring out the best of me now
The best of me now
The best of me now
Best of me now
Now I'm on my fifteenth album, which could be my last
But I do
even up to this day
Man I'm trying to drag me under
What the bumba you know that you can find me
I never change my number
I don't mind if these private
right back
Can't trust none of y'all, Im'a get right back
I'm feelin' crazy
My shooters like Tracy McGrady
This shit sell like crack in the '80s
Or we
had to remind myself bitch you that nigga still
She gone come back when I'm on that's just how I feel
But by then ion want her I'm prolly up some mills
blinded by the dark I raise hell till the day I see the light
Wishing eloquent rhymes would counter venomous strikes
I'm sipping Henny with sprite
Hoping
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