Lyrics:
culture turn apart behind the letters
Enslaved by a few
We gat the numbers
And we gat to beg to make em see our lives matters
What's the true story?
How
surely someday soon will come
But we will pass pleasantries, even under the gun.
Here's my open letter to the words written by feathers dipped in
Yeah, yeah, yeah, remember me?
The hype man that came in to blaze shit
Brought in by the white man like I came on a slave ship
and chains; no master can
If Pirus and Crips all got along
They'd probably gun me down by the end of this song
Seem like the whole city go against me
Every time I'm in
connected at the bottom like the letter V
So accustomed to the pop, we don't even blink
When them shots go off, get the Glock
Show off yellow tape a nigga
He
PITT
25th, September 1967
Dear Sandra
When I called in this, my manager's office
A few moments ago I was handed my
Very first American fan letter
Pray to Jesus, that's my Jesus fiend
One more prayer to me
Guess you made your mind, I'm way up at five
'Poppin on two four fives
Smoking
balling like that
I'm guessing your yelling because it's all in white capital letters
Watch your mouth you don't wan't to fall in white caskets
I can't
Viola Lee Blues
Words & Music by Noah Lewis
original recording (Gus) Cannon Jug Stompers 92028
©1928 Peer International (BMI)
Arr. Chris Chappell
I'm fascinated with facts, in fact
I own a sundry of knowledge to lay my feet on (these feet).
This universe is my university.
I read people by
grind
Just copped a maroon 5, no Adam Levine
Came a man by myself, only father was time
I know that she relate baby daddy ain't shit
So she raised that
tracks for these cats
I got a fetish for puttin' together words and letters
It ain't all about the cheddars and y'all know where my head is
Ghetto
the same, we ain't the same, nah
Peep the range, it's ten feet tall
I'm rockin' white and I've been matchin' the Off-White walls
While I wipe off, the maid
than a hockey rink, face of a Saint
Went for a drink ? Hot shots
Would wanna spend those five digit o's, on bimbo's
Bar closed, back to her six double o,
say grind the strife
And even worse when they never
Heard of 9 to 5 and you can't be gentle
Or they get all sentimental
I don't work for white people
They fear the undeniable
Had to say that loud
The amount that’s in my pocket is absurd
New ops popping up by the word
Fuck out my face
I don’t care
[Intro: Young Jeezy]
Yeah, be the realest shit I never wrote
I ain't write this by the way nigga, some real shit right here nigga
This'll be
Yeah be the realest shit I never wrote
I ain't write this shit by the way nigga
Some real shit right here nigga
This will be the realest shit you
yet
He's the first to be surprised
By the smiling words he's met
So when a poet writes
Is he still a child within?
When his words race out
Yeah
(Come in)
Names that you know me by, praise to the holy high
Shit been a lonely ride, all I do is only try
Weed is my only high, magazine
close
Until then send me letters
And tell me of your woes
Sign them at the bottom with your x's and o, o's
Sign them at the bottom with your x's and o's
the author's chapter in time must end
Letters of ink in a line
A life bound in text by these words and letters
And a will that isn't mine
The pages of fate turn
today
It ends better
There's a time for peace and time for war
That's word to the Black letters
And I can have peace inside thanks to the one who spoke
Mincing Words I Mean What I Say, I Say What I Mean
The Red Lights cre Irrelevant In The Music District
There's No Stopping Me
Shoot Greens Kobe Bean
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