Lyrics:
to climb
Not to conquer, but to share in the view
You're a bonfire and I'm gathered 'round you
Set this old black heart inertia aflame
Send it away
on the line girl)
Hey DJ (On the request line girl)
Play the record by my favorite band
I like to hear my favorite song on the radio
So I called
my song
Brain damage
Way before my baby daughter Hailey
I was harassed daily by this fat kid named D'Angelo Bailey
An eighth grader who acted
a random fan
Lead the way
You can send it by cashapp
Venmo or zelle
Stop calling my phone
Wont leave me alone
I want to hear that Coin drop
Or the bell
girl)
Hey DJ (on the request line girl)
Play a record by my favorite band
I like to hear my favorite song on the radio
So I called and requested
Niggas, I'm still grinding (yeah), I still hearing those sirens
I'm still getting chased by those lights
Only the light's lime, and my mic's
Oh, oh-oh, oh
Not by might
Not by power
By Your spirit, God
Send Your spirit, God
Not by might
Not by power
By Your spirit, God
Send Your
Hey DJ (on the request line girl)
Play the record by my favorite band
I like to hear my favorite song on the radio
So I called and requested
If it's bandaging the broken
Or washing filthy feet
Here I am Lord, send me
If it's loving one another
Even when we don't agree
Here I am Lord, send
only plays by the tens on the 1 and 2
Hook (x4)
We can do it too
Funkanella, funkanella
[Killer Mike]
A knot to remove your crew of those
got a snort headed motherfuckers!!
Niggas up to addict
But all you high yella heffa, got you up her panties
Believe which niggas make it like D'angelo
like I'm down at the disco
And we gonna keep it going like Crisco
'cause the DJ grab the record by the fist full
By the crate full, and we grateful
When
of those de ja vu things
Or a dream that's tryin' to tell me something
Or will I ever stop thinkin' about it
I don't know, I doubt it
Subterranean by
by people who
Feel neglected and turned away by the system
Beverly D'Angelo: Exactly
I mean it's like we had in Watts
Or the riots in Chicago in '68
on the air
And it's clear that your sales going down
Down by law then you found the raw
On a message board and you sounding off
These niggas get the whole
my song
Brain damage
Way before my baby daughter Hailey
I was harassed daily by this fat kid named D'Angelo Bailey
An eighth grader who acted
see it'd be
Twenty-two or so, older soldier on my team
I put you in my video
And give you plenty of dough
By my hotel room, Four fifty four
Hope that
"Brown Sugar" by D'Angelo
In Los Angele's, like an Evangelist
I can introduce you to your maker
Bring you closer to nature
Ashes after they cremate you
by my man D'Angelo
We make the shit Wild Hot
[Chorus: x3]
so long for me to send it on
Send it up send it through on my D'Angelo
Never will I let you go
I promise you forever more
I promise you forever more
(Obie Trice)
You don't see me in the hood, it's cause I'm doing this man
Niggas, I'm still grinding (yeah), I still hearing those sirens
I'm
Whenever it's time to recoup
Yeah, soon as this album drop I'm out of the deal
In the house playin' D'Angelo, "How Does It Feel?"
I got a fear of havin'
got some shit on his chest (he do)
Pray he don't flex, I'ma send em home (I am)
I got big pistols and weed by the pig, I got hitters, one call, I can
Hey DJ (on the request line girl)
Play the record by my favorite band
I like to hear my favorite song on the radio
So I called and requested
.jpg/220px-D'Angelo_Pori_Jazz_2012_(cropped).jpg "DAngelo")
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