Lyrics:
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
I'm saying
My shit complex y'all shit just plain
Like a brown bag of m&ms y'all niggas is lame
Lames stay in ya lane
Cause the shit i spit is high
a fuck
I don't give a, I don't give a, I don't give a fuck
I'm willin' to die for this shit
I done cried for this shit, might take a life for this
Dance
Dance
Dance
Dance
Dance
Dance
Dance
Dance
Bounce on that shit, dance (dance)
Bounce on that shit, dance (dance)
Bounce on that
zoom
Zoom, zoom, zoom
Zoom, zoom, zoom, zoom, zoom
Zoom, zoom, zoom
Zoom, zoom, zoom, shit
Life to me like a box of chocolate
Quid pro quo,
Oh shit I I can't believe it
I'm bout to become a artist
Remember from where I started never thought I'll become a artist!
medication
We'll have more on this story as it develops"
"Shady Records recording artist Obie Trice
Has apparently survived a gunshot to the head
In what
it love
artist artist artist
artist artist artist
artist artist artist call it love
you should know "You don't get shit straight if you don't
Let me guess, another album about, "Poor me
I'm so famous, it has ruined my rich little life
And I'm such a tortured artist, let me make music about
example of artists, then what am I?
You lie, they consume it, you say that you booming
That's probably why Metro don't trust you, gosh
I am not
folks, ecstasy capsules
Presidential scandals, everybody move
Two words, Mos Def, K West, hot shit
Calm down, get back, ghetto people got this
Game
Yeah, niggas want to talk about this rap shit
Niggas want to talk about this money
About these cars, these homes
These labels, clothes, sneakers,
of, you know, the artist's journey
You know, and why we do what we do
And that's a really big thing for me as of late
Like, not doin' work to feel
bullshit
My new whips the hardest
Walk in the office like a business man
I'm just an artist
Smoking and all, crib full of weed
Plaques on the wall
My
that shit down, ooh, yeah
You ain't never ball like this
Tone that shit down (oh why?)
Tell me who can ball like this
Tone that shit down
Who you
Come, get some, you little bum
I take the cake but you can't get a crumb
From the poetic, authentic, superior
Ultimate, and all that good shit
I’m an artist
Artist
I live for the life I create
I’m an artist
Artist
An artist
Artist
And I’m sensitive about my shit
So much to say
At the same
eyeballin' the chicks, holdin' the mix
Gassed off of my shit, vibratin' the whip
One of these days and it won't be long (that's what you call it pa)
One
Swearin' it's different, not genuine
Movin' like Snoopy and Charlie Brown
Feel like you tryna dog the kid
You're mine
Too many reasons why
I can't
wanna talk
Every artist wanna be the same shit
Every artist wanna say the same shit
Every artist wanna take the same shits
From the city where the rappers
In the shit house a shotgun
Praying hands hold me down
Only the hunter was hunted
In this tin can town
Tin can town
No stars in the black
In the shit house a shotgun
Praying hands hold me down
Only the hunter was hunted
In this tin can town
Tin can town
No stars in the black
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