Lyrics:
I've been crowded by all these fakes
And the shitty advice
And Plus I hear they still compare me
But we nothing alike
Shit I'm the new version right?
through
I can go back in time by digging through theses shelves
Another album slightly in the red
Still I know they'll carry on
It's surely tempting to go
crowded
Finally found the courage to release the album
Through the eclipse
It's deeper than music
Release the pain and know what it is
never a gripped a mic
album I copped
The Jungle Brothers Done by the forces of nature'
check out the cover
Afrocentric brothers just as dark as me
Hip Hop a guiding force
a hobby, gun bustin' the job
But the sickest niggas out is the bitchest niggas out
And I could take em on the street and straight whip 'em in the house
I wonder how we could move on
And pull together and manage
If I could save the mind
I'd help all my people get by
Life is too short to not evolve
don't touch the crown
By the way, that's Uncle Brown
A gyal dem a run me down, cuh
Ayy, look Stormz this is soul baby
The kind of soul that gave
Stella
the calendar design
Wilderness tours, guided for and by the blind
Cool ruler standing still sweating through the shades
He knew those lights only grew bright
reality flow
I'm tryna time my album dropping
With a reality show
Cock the MAC-11 in front of Hot 97
And call my publicist
Tell her we in press heaven (Ha
the house, she always tend to start shit
No to drugs I never spark it, I used to be bullied for honor classes
By those that were slow as molasses
Take this
fought 'cause I got crowded
Nowadays for he who try and catch your mom and upside down
Graduated to Waffle House, back then it used to be McDonald's
I think you need help
How many time on one album can you say you're def?
"I'm bad." Yo punk, save your breath
That's weak shit from a weak mind
proud
My friends all want my album out, but I swear I need some help
They don't know how hard it is to do this shit all by myself
I really just need more
don't touch the crown
By the way, that's Uncle Brown
A gyal dem a run me down, cuh
(I got it, yeah) this is soul baby
The kind of soul that gave
Stella
stalker
Words thrillin', so real they're chillin', the hit author
Gettin' louder than a shot gun, you don't want none
Rhyme pays was the name of the album
takin' subliminal
Cause they can't get what I got's
They want it so bad, four million dollar pad
And enough to retire off two albums, gone, wave ya' white
is greener when you guilty
Can't get no peace of mind when you filthy
But now I got a white house nothing inside to steal you feel
Land the type
of a flawed mind that's strung out by these narcotics
Advertised as the worlds cure to poverty
I'll pop a pill or two to get you off my mind
I'll love you for
[Criss Angel - Intro]
Yo it's Criss Angel.
I want to introduce you to the ultimate mind freak,
the conjurer, the prestedigitator, the supernaturalist
[Chorus]
They're givin us a mind fuck
They don't have to put our hands in cuffs
They can tell us stay put and that's enough
We bust, they feel
and laughter
Homicide is humor and nigga you looking funny
Women love to stare cause they know they see the money
I open up my mind by opening bank accounts
put you in the right mind
Light shines on my spirit, you just getting side lined
NO 2 your album, something like a nitrite
Man I'm far too smart to go
They want the album
I’m taking my time
Payin’ my dues
You payin’ dem fines
Word to billie eilish you rappers lying
Boxed in ya’ll been moving like
the track that comforts my vulnerability
Sold out, packed house in the shower
A perform just for me
With your gorgeous album cover blown up into a poster
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