Lyrics:
exhausted or whatever
It was like mid-afternoon, as I am
And I was like, can you put me to sleep
Can you talk about art history
He's a huge art history nerd
Tonight, it boils down to experience
Designer drugs, designer bags, I need materials
We both zealous, jealous individuals
No, I don't kiss and tell, do
Zealous in pursuit of truth,
Enthusiasm, Bullet-proof,
It's the art of growing old.
Time, lapping at my feet.
I'm walking in the sand
Showing those I meet
serving God
They don't get no nothing from me
Baby this a work of art
Gotta get my family up see
So I stay working hard
Hustle study get this money
I been
the weed bowls, here we go
Meditating, never jealous, over zealous
Wu-Tang Clan's my fellowship, fans massive acapellas
Of our lyrics, would be with
you're in the know
You got promoter's numbers on your phone
And you think connections give you cred
But it's just going to your head
Your band's about
man
What happened? I started moving too fast
Traded the craft for the cash so
Now you do the math
Subtract the heart and the art
You make for the people
en route to chase perfection
We conserved the art of perception
The art of perception
Are y'all done deflecting the art of
When a promoter do a show
mujhe tera wala gaana jise hai samajhna aasaan "
And I feel like lost in the graves with my art like Mehdi Hassan
This one's for all who think that art is
Now here's a one on one on how to spit barz nd verbarlize/
ccknowledge me m from the skul of rap i got the syllabus/
Its rap art lyricist born nd
The art of gone, and heart of stone, and own's worst enemy
Intellect shapeshifta, God's gift a Soul slippa
Hone in on clones and blow them out of my zone
this bag up, fuck buying them bitches purses (fuck that ho)
Mirror image of the block, I paint a picture perfect
Our Father who art in heaven all
on tour
'Cause we never bore, respond to the ready crowd's roar
And promoters try to hit us with the art of war
We about our business, we not quitters,
the dark
Holdin' crosses 'cross your heart
Sin is such a work of art
Watch out for the love lost
Bet a thousand, shoot a thousand
Things a nigga do for
motives
That's why I'm twenty plus years old, no sons no daughters
Hate putting my life in the hands of fake promoters
Hear the hate in my voice right? I
real frantic since
"Sights and Sounds" dropped
Ay, but that's a different story
Let them tell I'm a
Zealous stepping territory lines
I'm just mapping out
at the club the promoter want double for stage time the art form is tookin
Why would a pay for a show
I need to get paid just to show
If I pay you need
trynna faking the smile taking what's mine-so many niggas stepping on ma niche and make it their zones
Taking your music- to the promoters
to be
from the heart; the art of it made it interestin'
Plus me and sister blend before we got intimate
Friend or no friend, my man caught wind
This chick
Pull up to the show
He ain't got my backin we gone slap niggas
I do not like promoters
And it's always fuck the label
But tell them cracks one day
They
on dynamite, yeah, yeah
I see ya footsteps baby
Look like a work of art
Do you like the ways I walk
Do you like the ways I talk
I see ya footsteps baby
I'd like
once said by Black Thought that "Things Fall Apart"
Knew I shouldn't have been messin' with dude's girl from start
But I pimp from the heart, the art
fuckin featherweight
I aint the type to pic up the mic
And catch the stage fright
I'll pull a gauge if i aint paid right
To the promoters on tour
Short me
is art
Who knew that through throwing shade
That even feelings get caught
Who knew thinking through veins eventually hit the heart
Aww babe where do I
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