Lyrics:
and begin wit a endin' (I can't go on this way)
I'm stressed out, I can't take it no more
I'm moving ass backwards with no forward progress
Feel asthmatic
Yeah, I'm giving it over
Music by Peter Furler and Steve Taylor / Lyrics by Steve Taylor
©©2002 Dawn Treader Music (admin. by EMI Christian Music
to get some juice
I spent this whole racc to get a nuce
Niggas never know what they can go produce
So instead of abiding by typical
I would rather supply
All the air, all the air, get polluted by the dro
I see stares, I see stares, yea, everywhere I go
They don't care, they don't care, They'll pay
I walk on my own path until I find my way back home
It help me take a load off for the day I had to roam
Hold up pull the blinds, I think they tapped
along my way, I know
I would have left so long ago
If you didn't feel like hope
I don't wanna stand alone along my way, I know
I would never tell myself
people tell me to medicate
Feel my blood runnin', swear the sky's fallin'
How do I know if this shit's fabricated?
Time goes by and I can't control my
Can I get your hands up in the air
You can wave em like you just don't care
I know you feel it we can take it there
That's the spirit just to make it
to the brothers
Smile, you little human, smile, for you're sane.
By the way, what's sanity? They don't care about it.
In fact, they worry about nothing. They
people tell me to medicate
Feel my blood runnin', swear the sky's fallin'
How do I know if this shit's fabricated?
Time goes by and I can't control my
been that nigga
Planted my feet first my market way bigger
Hot boy I'll make the coldest bitch feel me
Put my game down cause none of these niggas thrill
tunin' in, let me explain
You know I keep that 47, Uday Huessein
These niggas way too far, I played the game
And if you listen hard enough I say some
tunin' in, let me explain
You know I keep that 47, Uday Huessein
These niggas way too far, I played the game
And if you listen hard enough I say some
Young Chop on the beat
Ay yo nephew
I think it's time to put some of that real sticky-icky-icky in the motherfuckin' air
But in a Backwood, ya
it’s 39 for a plate
(Thats like 16 bands baby!)
What I supply so great, but when it run dry you gotta…. Wait
Yo I feel her style but she smoke up all
the time they wanna fight its a minor things
I could never be defined by designer things
Dont mean i aint working to supply em things
On me beef and drama
(okay)
I don't dance (I don't dance) no way (no way)
I just take my Louis rag out and wave it round in the air
Take my Gucci rag out and wave it round in
(okay)
I don't dance (I don't dance) no way (no way)
I just take my Louis rag out and wave it round in the air
Take my Gucci rag out and wave it round in
Wa-ves, you say waves, I say wa-ves, you feel me?
Kaepernick, waddup?
I knew they was gonna do that to you
But it's all good, though
You gotta'
the room is quiet again
Ocean says the song "feels like a Rubik's
Cube melodically you want something
Emotionally rich on that
You know what I'm saying? But
breathe with no air
That's how I feel whenever you ain't there
It's no air, no air
Got me out here in the water, so deep
Tell me how you gon' be without
eyes
No surprise that I got you always by my side
You my ride or die, no shortage of supply
From the earth to the sky
And beyond
Time stand still
Romantic feels like I'm frantic
Exciting love transatlantic
Dramatic like the dramatics
Move like my whit automatic
Reoccurring like symptomatic
trapped behind a wall where they tried to buy some time
But the shaft it was polluted and the air supply destroyed
The only one found left alive was Daniel
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