Lyrics:
this sweater from the costume shop
It makes me look like Daisy Mae
See, we're laughing
I think we're gonna be okay
I mean, we'll have to try
change your life tell me what are you comparing
Put you on the red carpet tell 'em what you're wearing
Shop till you drop they say sharing is caring
dangerous I ought to be locked up
This rhyme doesn't require prime time
I'm just sharing thoughts of mine
Back again cause I knew you wanted it
From
sayanora
Adios muchachos dorme vous unbuckle my Fu-Schnick shoe
Mr., Chip Fu, about to wreck shop
With the Judo (CHOP!) a Judo (CHOP!) a Judo chop CHOP!
poppin the glock
And the cop tails for the guerillas on the block
For skinny niggaz like myself, artillery shops as well, yeah
[Bizzy Bone]
(You think I
two to the head
Knowledge me God, the shit I'm bout to holler is hard
From start, this little nigga had a hell of a heart
His pops, bangin' that shit
with birds
Christmas Eve without the tender words, without a place to call my home
Sharing a square in the park with the pigeons
Combing my hair
blast this never blasphemous. Shine brighter with no lighters internal fire true writer back in the day call me that typewriter. Knowledge base the bars
back, might not be back
Love 'em and leave 'em lyin', deceivin' and cheatin'
And when you catch 'em you peekin' and for the knowledge you're reachin'
She came from Greece,
She had a thirst for knowledge.
She studied sculpture at Saint Martin's College.
That's where I caught her eye.
She told
sayin', we gon' take y'all back to the source
Through knowledge, yo
When the MCs came to live out the name and to perform
Some had to snort cocaine
when man used to window shop
Now I’ll make a beat, write a bar
Six months later, buy the car
Fam, different ting
Man's buying in bulk, shipment ting
I
ain't talkin bout shit
Listen I gotta, quarter of block
I stretch it let it harden & rock
Then show the hood what a bargain about, fuck
I got shop I call
mixtapes
Everyone I meet shop a beat or a mixtape
See they plan to enslave
And make a billion dollars just off inmates
Clone meat your intake
Chicken
two to the head
Knowledge me God, the s*** I'm bout to holler is hard
From start, this little n**** had a hell of a heart
His pops, bangin' that
the lines are so dangerous, I ought to be locked up
This rhyme doesn't require prime time
I'm just sharing thoughts of mine
Back again cause I knew you wanted
them boujee natives, hold my knowledge in my braids
We them boujee natives, new cedar, new sweetgrass, new sage
We them boujee natives, you can holla
you trying to do
She loving the crew and ain't fucking with you
I go where the hood niggas get into it
I go where the bad girls go shop
Every window
my intentions, why and what for
Thinkin', "He can have actresses, singers or models galore
I work in a nail shop, every day in that bitch from eight
I had no other choice but go at knowledge of tray
When I got my transport, I got kind of steam G up
'cause I got cherry pet further
Now I'm feeling
marriage intact.
It's not so hard to be married
When two maneuver as one.
It's not so hard to be married,
And, Jesus Christ, is it fun!
It's sharing
street market, I don't shop no mall
I've been rockin' Rick, all black, with some Mihara's
I'ma get to pourin' up, out the mud since day one
Spoon fed, no
Clarity, Clarity clarity, Clarity
Clarity, clarity
Tell me where you're staring me
Thugs don't go to therapy
Pain stakingly sharing the
Things that
spring of knowledge yet unable to drink.
(Sharing Tantalus' fate, lacking cognizance of Plato's
object of perfection.
To charm the sphere is to control
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