Lyrics:
still a member of the hopeless
See, you're black like me, so you snap like me
When these devils try to plot, trap our young black seeds
Look it, cops
Intro
The number one set and sound...live! Ghetto Music. Produced by
KRS One.
Widdy bye bye bye bye bye bye bye
Widdy bye bye bye bye
1 yeah
This album is dedicated to all the teachers
That told me I'd never amount to nothin'
To all the people that lived above
The buildings that I
niggas in the game
A lotta niggas got two albums I can't explain
How they maintain to keep the same migraines
I can't help it if my brain is supersonic
the calendar design
Wilderness tours, guided for and by the blind
Cool ruler standing still sweating through the shades
He knew those lights only grew bright
to a childhood, need to be loved
By parents that was in too deep with the drugs
Nigga, my advice, fuck the black and white shit
Be who you are, identify
Cole World, DJ Khaled!
Yeah, back from the dead
Like Michael Jackson in red jackets, with naps in my head
Who's white or black, it's a rare package
da-da-da-da-da-da-da!
Audi R-8, laid back, Black on Black
Diamonds on my neck and my wrist matchin' that.
Black mask, black Mag', brown bag;
Drop down now or nigga
[Nas]
The Firm, Trackmasters, Escobar, Allure Keep it raw!
A-yo the bridge keep rockin
we comin through bottles popin
Allure when your album
Yeah, this album is dedicated
To all the teachers that told me I'd never amount to nothin'
To all the people that lived above the buildings that I
a fuck, say you could run that shit back
And fuck your loud pack, and fuck your Snapchat
Cherry Bomb, the greatest fuckin' album since the days of sound
hypothetical
These are the facts, a little metaphysical
We are one, every heart every lung
So why then was the black man hung?
He was hung by
Yeah be the realest shit I never wrote
I ain't write this shit by the way nigga
Some real shit right here nigga
This will be the realest shit you
Yeah, this album is dedicated
To all the teachers that told me I'd never amount to nothin'
To all the people that lived above the buildings that I
Air Ones
Bangin' "The Black Album," track #1
She like that Jay shit, that's her favorite
If it's gon' get me the pussy I'ma play that shit
If she
a black lie?
You just trying to get by
You just trying to get by
That's all - That's all you can do
You know, something has
Has been really pressing
a picture hardcore with a gun
Pimpin' ain't easy but it's always fun (it ain't easy baby)
When it comes to nuts, I bust'em one by one
So what's the 411
to saddle up the Tontos cause I'm the Lone Ranger
I eat dinner with Jews but don't talk to strangers
I'm just a few albums from filling your disc changer
If
nowhere to go ('cause I be runnin' this)
Reaper saved your soul (come on)
Surroned by the colors, I see crimson, black and blue (come on)
Locking open
"By And By The Way"
words and music © Grant Maloy Smith
From the album APPALACHIA: AMERICAN STORIES
Deep in contemplation
Praying in my hands
Lord
all black
Adidas tracksuit, drawstrings, chokin' the MAC
Got a couple bullets in it, gangstas slide in the rented
Dumpin' out the window, fuck
this
Ain't nowhere to run, ain't nowhere to hide
Ain't nowhere to go, Reaper's saved your soul
Surrounded by the colors, I see crimson, black
that yoppa by the bed nigga french toast
Black Phantom out front nigga space ghost
Word on the street you looking for 4 and a heezy
Just pull up in
Niggas scared of that black
I drop that Black Album, then I back out it
As the best rapper alive, nigga, ask 'bout me
From bricks to Billboards
From grams
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