Lyrics:
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,
Good artists copy great artists steal
Tyson
Popcorn peanuts lookin' at big butts
No I can not keep my mouth shut
Rockin' to the beat of the fabulous forum
My Lakers I adore 'em
Blush my
an artist is a fragile life
And it's something I have always believed
The memory cuts like a knife
All the good that I did was for nothing (ah)
All
You can trace the mystery of ancient history
Through art of artists and their models
You can comb through the Rome coliseum
And the rear
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
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
P!
Real artists
Fake artists
Hot artists
Wack artists
Hard artists
Soft artists
I'm addressing all artists
I'm a prisoner, a slave to this
artist-artist-are-are-artist"
[DJ Quik]
Now when I say I'm complete;
That means I'm true to my game and my cap
And I refrain from bein played like a sap
And a bitch? No
I got four good reasons why I cant go back there again
She had skin like a statue, milky white and pure
Carved by an artist who's hand is demure
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.
(辛い記憶も)
一気に (時代の roar)
即 飲み干す (自分と共存)
一気に (okay now I'm ready fo' sho')
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
No good, can't speak, wound up, no sleep
Skydiver inside her, sLip rope, stunt flyer
Wounded lover, got no time on hand
One last cycle, thrill
to laugh
Effortlessly I have loved thee
If fantasy could surely make a friend
The palette of your dreams
Would draw them mad
Beyond the universe, you know no
Tune me in to the wild side of life
I'm an innocent young child sharp as a knife
Take me to the garretts where the artists have died
Show me
This ain't serious (no)
This will make you delirious
If we didn't buss (never)
Every artist woulda 'fraid of us
Again, this ain't serious (no)
This
Tune me in to the wild side of life
I'm an innocent young child sharp as a knife
Take me to the garretts where the artists have died
Show me
Style with a hard-ass beat
Our explicit lyrics tells it like it is
If you don't like what I'm saying, get the fuck outta here!
Luke Skyywalker, the man,
can't break (uh)
That's the one, do music for fun
Give deals to artists (yeah)
Pull up to the office (yeah)
Yeah, I'm from the project so quadruple
I got four good reasons why I can't go back there again
She had skin like a statue, milky white and pure
Carved by an artist whose hand is demure
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
Discuss these artist/No-Good-One-Shoe/artist/Luke-Combs/3164067 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