Lyrics:
By the time you make one I'll be on ten
Hit the studio nigga, and do it again
To the beat y'all, and it don't stop
It goes on cause I don't stop
together
So come on now and get up to it y'all
The incredible, untouchable nigga spittin' venom out his body wit' the dopest flows
And wonder why the line's
Platinum shit
Album match the wrist
Please don't talk too much they say they can't resist
All I ever listen to's my common sense
When I started off they said
you 'cause you love my brother like you did
Just promise me you'll tell this story when you make it big
And if I die before your album drop I hope
Wake, Babe, you know you fire
Faith, waves, got me tired fry cry by design
Ah, ah, am I tied
This is what we do, dobring your girls
Bring em like
Let us begin, what, where, why or when
Will all be explained like instructions to a game
See I'm not insane, in fact I'm kind of rational
When I
to clapping, soldier action specialty of style
We made the whole world respect the underground while
Some of y'all niggas talk shit and get mad
Cause we did
really blame you? (Who can really blame you?)
We're the ones who made you
Ahem, back by popular demand
Now pop a little Zantac for antacid if you can
to cheese
Tryin' to pay the rent
You know Kriss, I'm Kross
Y'all ran, we walked
No Limit n****z got ghetto dope by pounds and bults
Blowin' tapes
Oh man
Hi
You guys are so loud
I'm glad I have this moment to
Talk to you because this
Whole thing is going by so
Fast I can't even like, process
I walk on water
But I ain't no Jesus
I walk on water
But only when it freezes (fuck)
Why, are expectations so high?
Is it the bar I set?
My
The club
Why
To party and have some fun
What is it that
Can come and take away all your stress, tell me
Music
No further questions, you have passed
"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
old back room
He'd bob his head and say, "Damn, oh, that's you?"
But by The Black Album, I was blackin' out
Party at S.O.B.'s and we had packed
What do I say
Say whatever the heck you want
Be on beat stay on beat
Oh my GOD
Yo here I go
Hey yo I don't know any words
My GOD
Play the Album
gold
And maybe get rich, hol' up
Trinidad Jame$ in four weeks but now my album platinum and shit, so what?
Y'all keep the numbers
I'm more than
I think it's safe to say, this is my favorite song on the album
Shoutout to Mr. Marcus Dozier
It start off so perfect, every day after work
Facetime
higher? (We ain't no higher, we ain't no higher)
I cross sands in distant lands, made plans with the sheiks
Why you beef with freaks as my album sales
(okay)
To his album we ride we so mob (okay, yeah)
I throw lives and lowest to live
For my loaf of bread the people's player
I did what the culture
I'm sorry! I'm sorry
Anyways, let's get-
Let's start, alright?
We- We don't have enough time
So...that's why the album is gonna sound bad?
You're
[Jay-Z]
Turn the lights even lower!
Hova
Memphis Bleek
Beanie Seigel
Roc-a-fella y'all
[DMX]
Jigga, my nigga, rhyme all night
[Jay-Z]
old back room
He'd bob his head and say, "Damn, oh, that's you?"
But by The Black Album, I was blackin' out
Party at S.O.B.'s and we had packed
to switch the hue 'cause them LA boys smuggy
But more likely to get hurt by somebody who love me
My lady, she don't trust me (nah), know I'm a sick puppy
talkin' 'bout nothin' with a flow so disgustin'
Ashtray by me that I gotta dump my guts in
Need substance, feed it to the public
No one gon' touch it
Discuss these by y album iq Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In