Lyrics:
the heart
He got an agent and a roadie named Bart
They made a record and it went in the charts
The sky was the limit
His leather jacket had chains
That would
got my eyes on the number one nigga
Watch your spot on the charts
"Here I come nigga!"
You hear the footsteps, you hear the sound
The only way I got
tattooed (yeah)
Talkin' 'bout my songs, on the chart, they climb (huh?)
But I never saw a girl really that fine (yeah)
How you even cute when you stressed
trip
Our true destination's not marked on any charts
We're navigating to the shores of the heart
Chorus 2x
Color me your color, baby
Color me your car
Color me your color, darling
I know who you are
Come up off your color chart
I know where you're
T and he be that boy
I talk death, but I don't like guns
I talk love, but I don't got none
They talk charts, but they don't got one
You got a stage, then
kinda feel him
You will never understand
You ain't from the hood, niggas tryin' to kill him
I'm tryin' to put my youngin' on the chart
They trying
on your back, yeah
She gon' throw it back, yeah, for a rack, yeah
What they doing this? Man I did that last year
Hit the charts, number one, that was
craziest shit ever
Top of the charts, I wish I did feel better
So I take a two; this is before I knew
What to do, what to do; ah, what's that?
Got a mood
Ryde or Die Volume two, smash the charts
Now put your hands in the air for the black Mozart, OH
(Oh) now come on
(Scream) jump baby come on
Get
topped the charts
Now I'm on BET and MTV
Remember back then watchin' Oprah?
Now I'm on the sofa with Oprah
Louboutins all on her sofa
No strings
can chart
I've been going on, knowing that my heart will break
With ev'ry breath I take!
is he on top of something you can't gauge
Especially when he's topping the charts
And you see me, K. Lamar, and Macklemore sharin' the same stage
you're not gonna pop
Me the crew and all lay
In the box you were topping the charts
Look at the people not even jockin' your art
Why's that
Cause
and all lay
In the box you were topping the charts
Look at the people not even jockin' your art
Why's that
Cause everybody that really buys rap
Don't
not a chart that came on Monday
Life was oh so simple back then back when he was hungry
And then one day he wrote a song that got someone's attention
the dogfetcher, I betcha
Ah, with the slang
Get you coughed up from the weed it'll bust your brain
The top notch of hip-hop and I'm on the charts
I'm catchin'
And the Billboard charts
Work hand in hand
With the local jocks
As hit men for hire
Personal hit men
Makin' the hits
From the very first shipment
Red and Chuck
the fall
After all of our strivings are dust
Even so
Good for us
It's all who you know
For the want of a compass
We'd be shuffling charts
For
walk out the door
And you don't need a map or any kinda chart
To know you're standin in the spot your car used to be parked
Now you know you parked
shakin'
Makin a lotta money but don't let me be mistaken
I never thought about climbin up the pop chart
And I don't give a fuck you can't buy my tape in
of this is incorrect
First should always come respect
The charts are not equal to the respect of the people
Their respect doesn't weeble or wobble
you don't need no chart
You don't need no notice from the doctor, your fingers my thermometer
I ain't even tryin' to be rude, I need you to care for
Even though Annie said the sun come out tomorrow
But the ghetto stay dark
I never thought I'd ever see the Billboard charts
Who'd ever thought that
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