Lyrics:
knee...
I'll go my way by myself
It's how the comedy ends
I'll have to deny myself
Love and laughter and friend
I'll try to apply myself
And teach my
Bitch want me by her side just to make sure she okay (Yeah, okay, okay, okay)
I can't protect this ho no more, she all up in my way (What, okay,
And the side door johnnies
The wide eyed boys with their bags full of
Money
Back in the alley
Going bang to the wall
Tied to the tail
Of a midnight crawl
wouldn't I?
Says negro on my birth certificate
Born in 1960 in a nation
Throughout / I've been a spokesperson
For a generation
Within the same ol fear
I've got my kit bag, my heavy boots
I'm runnin' in the rain
Gonna run till my feet are raw
Slip kid, slip kid, second generation
And I'm
up
Nothing else is my calling
Like usher
Bitch, I'm caught up
Tracing all of the mistakes I made
Since I was a teenager
Trapped in my room
I don't want
many hoes
Yes, they're many flows
The start of the destruction
Assisted by call of some percussion
To usher in a new millennium
My mind process
drenched in wine
But you'll be on my mind
Forever
Out across the endless sea
I would die in ecstasy
But I'll be a bag of bones
Driving down the road
Back in the garage with my bullshit detector
Carbon monoxide making sure it's effective
People ringing up making offers for my life
I just want
and pickin' up tags off the flo'
Bag full of clothes I remember havin' rocks in the hall
On the corner with the Glock by the balls
Servin' up a jab
It's all over now my dear
Two shades of blue
Tangled up in you
fish, and gentlemen
Here's my angled dream
To see me in the blue sky bag
And meet me by the sea
The entry to lost vestibule
Opens on the bay
name should be Steven
Now I'm Usher I got it bad
She made me fall, now I'm way too attached
She got me all in my deep end of bags
Now I can't let go, I
It's knowin' that your door is always open
And your path is free to walk
That makes me tend to leave my sleepin' bag
Rolled up and stashed behind
At words poetic, I'm so pathetic
That I always have found it best,
Instead of getting 'em off my chest,
To let 'em rest unexpressed,
I hate
gotta say this my lad:
You're the top! You're Mahatma Ghandi.
You're the top! You're Napolean brandy.
You're the purple light of a summer night in
shows
& lost it on my way to Jers'
'cause I paid it in tolls
So you can kiss my hairy bean bag
FUCK the nations
& twitch your favorite titty nipples
To my
shit, nah, I ain't braggin' (yeah, yeah)
Pickin' up bags all in Paris (yeah, yeah)
Flood my neck out with some carats (uh)
My young niggas
And you put the load right on me
I picked up my bag, I went looking for a place to hide
When I saw Carmen and the Devil walking side by side
I said
runnin' in my brain
And they drag me back to work again
Pains and blisters on my minds and my hands
From living daily with those canvas bags
I'm prone to lose control.
And if by chance I fall down
And bust my head on the floor,
Just wrap my wound in a porterhouse steak
And point me
jeans on
And I had my pistol in my pocket
Can't trust none of these bitches, gotta be cautious
Can't trust none of these bitches, gotta be cautious
I
At words poetic, I'm so pathetic
That I always have found it best,
Instead of getting 'em off my chest,
To let 'em rest unexpressed,
I hate
to be back like
Abra-abracadabra (and for my last trick)
I'm 'bout to reach in my bag, bruh (like)
Abra-abracadabra (and for my last trick, poof)
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