Lyrics:
the weapon-try as I bomb atomically
Stagnant they stood surrounded and astounded
By this total square mileage of violence that I brung
I've not yet begun
you left me out here stranded
My feelings, will they change a bit? (You know how I feel about you)
Don't know how I think, baby
Infinite, the love I
on that wop
My bitch make my heart start
My car really push start
Get ghost in that track car
I sip on that wop
My bitch make my heart start
My car really
Yo, word up
I'm bout to rep my motherfuckin hood
This is my hood, nigga
It's laundry mat track, keep the loot in Iraq
Iraq, see the world, the world
To the rhythm of the wheat fields in the wind
Stung by those old lies you told yourself
Strung with that same rope you sold yourself
Either you can't hear
made only of love, sculpted by the wind on the rock
cnd a push from the guy from above
I'm the sixth element, the sound of silence
Inconsistent movement,
And like Chicago winds, I was once a Street Disciple
Rockin' every Jordan shoe, Nike put out by Michael
That made me feel like I could fly, sometimes I
LOSING THE TRACK (Del Vecchio) I see people in the streets While they cry for what they see They wanna change what we have And fight for a better
the moans of Al Capone
Gun POW to the dome
And split the bone, wig blown off the ledge
By the alledged, full-fledged, sledge RZA edge
One dose of my
Wit' rent still?
A bitch won't make it past first
Base if I curve her
Unless she got Angels In The In Field
I keep a 40 below, a 45
You add the wind
straight and feet planted wide,
un-tip-over-able like the bamboo'd undulating hills,
walking slowly, making eye contact, gliding,
the sound of empty wind
If I could trade every city light
for that small town Saturday night
the kind that winds up down some dirt road lit by a full moonlight
we'd be sitting
Harmony has no any split ends
But if cold wind is coming all I see is blowing fans
Seduced by worthless expense
Whoever recommends to prioritize shit
Yo, it's the fly kicko, golden double eye nickle
Sly snickle, little change, the dry pickle
Pics blow, serious face like Don Rickles
Prime ripples, I
won't stay still though the system tells me I'm on the wrong track
They are spending by the millions
While I'm struggling to save
I'll be dead and soon
Be in the moment. Power
Chill with the potent flower
Sunny days when i light that grass
Get blazed. Puff that gas
Seasons change like everyday
I was born in the house of blues
Propelled by the winds of change
Entertained by the theater of pain
Most of y'all have screamed my name.
I
[Pharrell Williams]
Yo...
I go by the name... (I'm yo' pusha)
of Pharrell from the Neptunes...
And I just wanna let y'all know... (I'm yo' pusha)
"Gen’lmen, we just havin’ church
Here" Six words which - directed at me and
A fellow soul buff at the Full
Gospel Tabernacle church by it's chuckling
throw the covers back and peek out of the draperies
My daughter, my baby, my baby mama all escaping me
In the wind, she was my friend
Like Princess Di
Sassoon, chrome tones hear the moans of Al Capone
Gun POW to the dome
And split the bone, wig blown off the ledge
By the alleged, full-fledged, sledge RZA
negative talk has got their brains infested
so I stay on alert and try not to get hurt
avoid getting sidetracked by what's under the skirt
then I come with
you're on the verge of success
The sky starts to change
And the wind starts to blow
And you're suddenly a stranger
There's no explaining where you stand
don’t really give a fuck
Only fucking wit me cause my on dumb
Man I ain’t goin lie yea I used to be a bum
But now shit change I got money by the ton
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