Lyrics:
artist"
[Quik] Doin much damage in the ninety-two
"for America's mo-mo-mo-mo
most complete artist-artist-are-are-artist"
[DJ Quik]
Now DJ Quik is
YOU'RE right
[Barry White]
.. quite sad
[Big Daddy Kane]
In my case, I may have found someone (mmm)
I want, all, of that someone
[Barry White]
Yeah,
YOU'RE right
[Barry White]
.. quite sad
[Big Daddy Kane]
In my case, I may have found someone (mmm)
I want, all, of that someone
[Barry White]
Yeah,
artist
And everybody knows you by a different name
I didn't catch your first name
I didn't get your last
I didn't hear too much what was said
My
a demonstration)
[ VERSE 2: Big Daddy Kane ]
Give a demonstration
And take time out for a dedication
To all the deejays and radio stations
Who put my record
much fun)
Oh, house parties in the summer, y'all (come on)
And no one (come on), came through with a gun (a gun)
It was all about good music, y'all
To Jorma
It's all too much
It's all too much
When I look into your eyes, your love is there for me
And the more I go inside, the more there
To Jorma
It's all too much
It's all too much
When I look into your eyes, your love is there for me
And the more I go inside, the more there
The bleeding hearts and the artists
Make their stand
And when they've given you their all
Some stagger and fall, after all it's not easy
Banging your heart
No gal made has got a shade on sweet Georgia Brown
Two left feet but oh-so neat has sweet Georgia Brown
They all sigh and wanna cry for sweet
The bleeding hearts and the artists
Make their stand
And when they've given you their all
Some stagger and fall, after all it's not easy
Banging your heart
Oh, oh my darling
Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah
The artist pays the price
So you won't have to pay
If only we would listen
To what they have to say
Oh, oh my darling
Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah
The artist pays the price
So you won't have to pay
If only we would listen
To what they have to say
I think about them
Can't hear it coming down the hallway stairs from the parking lot
It's too loud
Three's not a crowd all up in it
Slow fire
Well I loved too much; by such and such
Is happiness thrown away.
I gave her the gifts of the mind.
I gave her the secret sign
That's known to all
When I go out with artists
They talk about language and the Cubists and the Dadaists
And I try to catch their meanings
And keep up with all
it's too hard to ask
Won't you try to help me
Why don't you be the artist
And make me out of clay?
Why don't you be the writer
And decide
on tour even getting it overseas
All the way in Switzerland stacking swisser-cheese
I ain't too good for that brown paper bag
I can still move that work
I gaze at Your moon and Your stars
Mounted like jewels in their setting
I know You are the fascinating artist who fashioned it all
When I look up
I've drunk too much, to belong to you
Feel so much older but I'm only 22
She said she was an artist when I met her on the street
She sleeps right
too much plus you too full of yourself
Worried about your career, you ever think of your health?
(What did the Indian say?)
A piece of land
That's
Far above the highest heavens
On a throne of crystal light
Dwells the God of all creation
Rays of wonder crown His might
Human voices blend with
There are no lyrics to this track. It is intentionally blank, with each of the 71 seconds representing one of the years that the artist's father,
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