Lyrics:
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
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
Your next favourite artist (Artist , Artist , Artist)
You're my favourite artist (Artist)
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
of the enchantment Navajo
I have seen your redrock
Canyons out of gallop
I have walked upon your Arizona hills
At crownpoint I watched an artists painting
All
(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
as a hero
Picture mural pictures of us painted all over street corners
Fans meet to mourn us, while we meet the coroners
Notorious tried to warn us
We
Korea?
You know I've been a boss for my whole career
I'm 'bout to jet in the Lear
And put more than my hands in the air
Hands in the air, put your
escape artist,
The weed in your garden in that place you’re still guarding
Where I am not a liar
I am the fighter, though not a boxer by trade
I am
write it on your walls
'Cause that's what walls are for
He is an artist.
write it on your walls
Cause that's what walls are for
He is an artist.
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
Morning fields of amber gray
Weathered faces lined in pain
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand
Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
a favor, blessin' them with your talent
You could sing, rap, write, produce, engineer, mix and master
And you play every instrument, literally
On God,
fast
I'm never fucked up to where I can't whoop your ass
You'll neck'll get snapped with bare hands, fuck music
Is he rappin'? It's cool but fools,
fast
I'm never fucked up to where I can't whoop your ass
You'll neck'll get snapped with bare hands, fuck music
Is he rappin'? It's cool but fools,
which on the one hand intimidating and on the other
Immensely liberating. The rules, the assumptions
The now-we're-supposed-tos of how you get your
before I peddle a dime
Line for line, whose the best artist, the rest y'all garbage
But it's awkward, it's ass backwards, they still spinning your
Pardon me, your epidermis is showing, sir
I couldn't help but note your shade of melanin
I tip my hat to the colorful arrangement
Cause I see
through the crowd, fan by fan (by fan)
Remember how we used to do it hand by hand then?
Five niggas, one gram, we split it twenty, damn
Not your average
(Song is played underneath Ray's dialogue)
Ray writes a letter
RAY: Dear Rosalind, thanks for the new tape. You did my song very well. But, be
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,
Yow yow aaaah out my comfort zone heh merc merc hehheh curian curian
Tmg or die nigga yow
Like a nad kidney man inoperable
Artist life artist life
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