Lyrics:
With Technics joints (with the slipmats!)
Put nickels on the needles so the motherfucking record won't jump
The needle won't skip and shit
Getting
Live to see another mornin'
For ever struggle, every strip, and every ghetto
For every nigga toned in the pain and heavy metal
For every child that's
caught up in this cycle of aspirations and greed
Trying to move my pieces forward, I pray that you never leave
So tell the heavens up above that this music
? buddy could you put this bail out
Back in the day he was outta control
Need another standoff but his music ate y'all
That's when me and fat Steve
Million dollars worth of a game put in two sixteens
I tend to keep a space in haters heads living rent free
Some will say i never made it but I'm
favourite film, but someone's slowed it down and then re-wound it
Music is the picture, lyrics are the colour
You can substitute passion or go find another
So
Dance to my music box
Like a drugged up ballerina
Maybe If I put on
My Musicbox
And spin around like a
Ballerina
Maybe if I dance hard
In
minutes
Can turn night into day
They're dancing on the tables
Down at El Frente
Another entry in the log
My mind put to a test
When we sailed with
of escape
But we know it's a shame
That we merely choose the latter and forgetting to think
How this music affects the listener in this system of things
Music
rather have a milk shake -- he keeps forcing down the beer
Just another folkie -- late in coming down the pike
Riding his guitar -- he left Kid brother
in front of you
But you drive me all the time
You put evil in my mind
I used to sing and say my prayers
Live my life without a care
Now I have
And We Just ...
BBI Do or Die, Do or Die
I rock out
Look me in my eyes see a masquerade
Born in 98' same vibe still from yesterday
Today another
a connection to Christmas music and it began in early childhood spurred on by three things. My culture, my family, and my city. I'm a born and raised new Yorker.
very deep inside my mind
I'ma keep on working on my music
I don't need a rubric
I just put a sound up in my midi then I use it
Make it fluid
My
A different song is a different path
If I click another tune, I could be reliving my past
Music is a holy grail that captivates with fascination
It can turn
yo house like a island
Twin glocks making music - like the brothers Isley
When you finally quit the hiding - you gon' rest in silence
Hollow-tips gon'
the hood, conspiracy to cover up crime
No nickel and dime, one shot pettiness
I wrote it in my mind as
A letter to the president
World trade happened
To save up their nickels and pennies and put em in some rolls
So they can come again to see me all these bitches i don't know
Be in my bed spread eagle
as lyricists
Militant minded tenement talk in project lobbies
Had me embarrassed by eighteen that I ain't catch a body
The 90's was mob tied, mafia monikers my
if i'm here, then fuck it, imma stay ahead of the curve
Couple CDs and 3 Gs in my fake gucci purse
Fightin' demons by myself like the D was for Durden
once that when you put a CD in a CD-player the drevel, the drevel, kinda
It can, you can like see, it can actually see the drevel on your corneas
It
Drink Goose, smoke good
in the mood for eating pussy with some titties as a side
Imma act a fool, go all night long and put the stakes up high
Drink
my house never wanted a trade
Music my life
Thank God I can live it
You say it take time
Thank God I can give it
Don't get rewinds
I charge by
thing I gotta do is hit my wrist with the soda
Niggas thought it was over, but bitch I live by the slogan
I told you
Hop in another one nigga
Get
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