Lyrics:
the other Debbie
Debbie the teacher?
Oh, you mean, Black Debbie
Whoa whoa whoa whoa, why is she "Black" Debbie?
No, not in a bad way
It's just
the weight that falsely portrays my grin
Just another case of alienation
So I play Best Friends by you and Kristoff Krane and then
Feeling somewhat sane
Before
We've been doing a lot of laughing
Which is good, uh, for a comedy show on a comedy CD, but what we haven't been doing is a lot of thinking
And I'd
partners from Oakland doin serious time
You can't argue with the truth it's hard to be black
But it's a mind game, and you gotta deal with that
I wake up
managing(huh uh)
Resorting to funds yet niggas steady gambling(ok)
Phantom of the opera
Black Sinatra
Kentucky Derby horses sure to trot ya
Just for
the secrets of the ages
Vanglorious! This is protected
by the red, the black, and the green
with a KEY! SISSSSSY!
"It was nearly eleven, when I started
sleep
I pile my rhymes by the heap on cassettes, Lp's, cd's and 12 inches
Perform the shit and get the girl like pinches
With good intentions, the key
like I was still slangin crack
But thanks to the Lord, I ain't got a slang no more
Consumed by my music, hitting keys on the keyboard
Smoking weed
ソウルメイト please arrive providing affections to shine,
I pray a special wife in mind stay always by my side!
Chorus: Natasha Remi (Sung twice 8 Bar’s):
いつも
Amy
Post turbo, bout to get that bitch painty
Lucky Luciana a.k.a. Piano man, used to play with keys
3 or 4 peas, purpose sack luch, oxis
These ol'
5 years later still pulling glass out of my head
Well I should be dead
I should be dead
Black out the last 7 night
Need dad is to borrow the car keys
comin through got paper gotta have it
Under my damn bed
And Im flippin red
If I get caught with keys I goin fed
But that ain't on my mind
No Im not
through got paper gotta have it
Under my damn bed
And I'm flippin red
If I get caught with keys I goin fed
But that ain't on my mind
No I'm not thinkin
to the G code doing numbers
They would think I had the cheat code
Had a plug, he was sorta like your bitch
And by that, I mean
The boy was taking cheap loads
snitching in our waters if you fishing/
Only proud black hustlers we sharing on a vision/
ch, no lengwanda only peter for the mixing/double cup chilling/
History, black history
No president ever did shit for me
Had to hit the streets try to flip some keys
So a nigga wont go broke
Then they put us in jail
is born again
Waiting for the right words to cross my mind, i'm creating, motivated by my lust for life
Coloring the picture, capturing the eyes,
dopamine
This venom inside of your body is probly'
Black as the wool that I wear with the jewels
Thinkin' how I'm gonna keep the cool
Cause I'm high-key
At night is when I day dream the most by far
With no visions of my future
The shit's pitched all black
The Devil's sending text messages
And it's
plain
Old black extensions
Just a T-shirt about carbon
"I always thought that by the time
I put out a third album, i would want
To come back to natural
History, black history
No president ever did shit for me
Had to hit the streets try to flip some keys
So a nigga wont go broke
Then they put us in jail
your mind in the manner that
The Almighty God has designed the human mind to do
Tug of war, in my mind's like a clash of the titans
Thoughts
Like they shifting keys,
Of the black stuff,
I enter a space,
Where, I command control,
Like I'm shifting keys,
On a MacBook Pro,
See man clout up,
By
me
Bet your mama know but keep it low key
She the one bought me swishers and 40's
Say she seen it all bitch no you didn't
I stand tall the wind I
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