Lyrics:
(two shots)
アガれ now 歌えオンヘヤ
さあ 飲め飲め飲め飲め このグラス ay
さあ 酔え酔え酔え 今 to your artist
ワンショット (one shot) ツーショット (two shots)
ノリな more 歌えオンヘヤ
祝杯 (sippin'), 姿
All alone, or in two's
The ones who really love you
Walk up and down outside the wall
Some hand in hand
And some gathered together in bands
All alone, or in two's
The ones who really love you
Walk up and down outside the wall
Some hand in hand
And some gathered together in bands
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,
two things just the same
Baby you're a quick change artist
And everybody knows you by a different name
You told me what your name is
I showed you
America's most complete artist"
"What's your name boy?"
"I.. am.." "America's most complete artist"
"You better get ready"
"for America's most complete
introduced the oceans to the earth
Well whoever made the snowflakes
Made shadows where doubts lurk
I suspect an artist is at work
I know when an artist
values
When you associate with secular artists in the R&B hip-hop world
Here he comes
I cannot believe the controversy shrowding this man
Mr.
So Icey, boy
CEO
(SpiffoMadeIt, bitch, aha)
(Go)
Lately they been comin' at me fakin', it's been hard to dodge
I just copped two Trackhawks
Art is dead
Art is dead
Art is dead
Art is dead
Entertainers like to seem complicated
But we're not complicated
I can explain it pretty
Yo, yeah, dat way
I mean, you know this not a diss record
I don't sneak diss
This just for the record, just facts
Your artists be taking my
We in the streets, playa, get your mail
It's only two places you end up, either dead or in jail
Still nowhere to go (nowhere to go)
Still nowhere
Dear Till Family:
As a recording artist
I have always been interested in word play
My lyrics often reference people, places
And events in my music
yo what an artist said, they're going
Yo yo yo!
Yo yo yo!
Brad's off twisting a win
And I can't afford to pay the feds
And now I'm never late
only one.
Let's got back to Eden,
Don't make the garden wait.
At the gates of Eden,
This golden key is all it takes.
Guest Artists:
George Hawkins, Jr.
to mine
On Sunday
My day off
You know, Franz, I believe that artist is drawing us
Huh? Who?
Monsieur's friend
Monsieur would never think
real work in that make you cute, fuck that
But anyway son indeed, he stole two Polo rugbies
Swore to his dead mother, I couldn't take it
Yo Lord I
The reserucction of the dead... I could never get
And if I ever die, all I do is ride
The streets prounounce me dead
Puttin 2 holes in my head
At the funeral, I had
She ain't try to charge, but anyway, I gave her a lil' cash
I'm poppin' it off, I'm tryna make her ex-nigga mad
Leaned up, just took two pills, damn,
First and foremost I would like to
Thank God my beautiful wife, shante
Da "Boss Lady", my kids: Spank
Rook, & Choc, Anthony Hayward
Moms, Pops,
of this effort is
I want to suggest two propositions
The first one is that the poets, by which I mean all artists
Are the only people who know
colors show the glory
Of the Master Artist's plan
Built by god for those who love Him
Those who trust the great "I am"
Those who trust the great "I am"
to Brenda, Laticia, or Linda, Felicia
She came for me twice, I didn't even nut for her once, you know I'm a pleaser
Forty-two millimeter, was made in Geneva
_(cropped).jpg/225px-Chris_Stapleton_Concert_(48519730107)_(cropped).jpg "Chris Stapleton")
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