Lyrics:
lucky, my God! Flight of Icarus in those grubby dirty by now horribly sticky little fingers and
hands and grubby palms, and oh what else is grubby, I don't
attacked in
Camouflage and from that, I got a hint of
The power of lyrics to encapsulate magic
Or to spread alarm
Now I have recorded three albums
A few days
head your new mixtape and your album, shit was wack
Ain't nobody spending hard earned money on that!
I remember when they said that I paid for my views.
This the Outro on the
Album Of The Year
When truth seekers meet gate keepers with loaded heaters
Haters never check us it's tricky like my Adidas
And you ain't got nothing to say (what!)
Well it's album number two right (yeah)
So you gotta let 'em know (that's right)
So do your thing (yeah)
Take
dandruff
I'm far from a new kid on the block, I hang tough
Was handcuffed to false pretense but they were out of luck
Released myself from captivity escaped
told the new builder
Sold By Nette my Realtor
I'm grinding and hustling. Stacking it up to the lid
(Where the bag at) It's on the shelf
Been working too
a highway star
I'm a highway star
Oh, yes I am, you mothers
Thank you. That's a new one, taken off Machine Head.
This is a song about...
Sweet child
Boy, I’m still tryna grow up
I was such a good kid, could be why I’m a bad grown up
I ain’t acting brand new, I’m just getting rid of old stuff
Dropout
by your side
Fuck this shit I been on a hustle
Fuck it am living this life
She always trippin on me
Told you I got a new game
I call it smash
And seeing John made me think of the Velvets
and I had been thinking about them
when I was on St. Marks Place
going to that new gallery those sweet new kids
And seeing John made me think of the Velvets
and I had been thinking about them
when I was on St. Marks Place
going to that new gallery those sweet new kids
Now I'm living in cell block six, go ahead
Step in my office
Excuse the smell of my armpit's, nutsack
And I can't flush down my shit's
Till the shit's
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
to go to, you know
Trader Joe's and have it shipped to me"
Victory, history
More G than a kid's movie, Royalty
My name is Rock in the new drop
My
harder then cash is swung
The only kid with a Velcro, fabric thump
Neva! dropin' the blunt
Two for fine rollin'
Eighty nine in the bricks is fifteen
the ten by four, controllin' the house
We live in hard knocks, we don't take over we borrow blocks
Burn 'em down and you can have it back daddy, I'd
the ten by four, controllin' the house
We live in hard knocks, we don't take over we borrow blocks
Burn 'em down and you can have it back daddy, I'd
started?
Man, my Bar Mitzvah money
But don't diss me buddy, I wasn't one of them younguns up on the block who had nothing to lose
I must've wanted this
I was raised in a time of regret and bad news (uh-huh)
So I was taught my values by bad dudes (uhh)
Hustlers and killers.. they taught me wrong
a street poet leave niggaz fadin in my tracks
I stay posted on da block posted up wit da mack
By da 1st of the month Time to pop a new nigga
Steals car steal
the poor
Alicia +Key+ed his car for givin Melbourne +Moore+
For the Redd +Foxx+ who bought off the block, but though twice
As Debora +Cox+ the gun 'cause
was a southerner, posing as a, native New Yorker
The Jason kid took his first steps in Jimmy's walker
He stayed on line chattin' with rap celebs
Used
off, shit
How we talk, shit
Don't need no guap, kid
Around yo block, kid
This for yo momma
Make her feel just like a boss bitch
For yo momma
Ay
I ain’t
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