Lyrics:
(Dro)
Critics got opinions, they so stupid rich
Give a fuck about a critic, they switch up in a minute
Y’all talk it I just live it, as I increase
We some allstars we some captains
We some winners we go so hard
Never givin' in to no critics
I can do it, do it, do it, I knew it all
I said I can
intestines
You're always such a critic
You've got me second-guessing
You're parasitic
You just want my intestines
You're always such a critic
You've got me
Caught in the pavement
This isn't a contest
Call it how you see it
Overthink it then delete it
Do I really need it
Being my worst critic
I'm a pour one out for my critics and my haters
You should focus on you, why you worried 'bout me
Come with me, hail mary nigga
Run quick, see
What
understood
What did you say when the London critics voiced their opinion of your show?
I know that I should leave
Oh, Jerry, here's a question, rather
What is the musical topic, of the day?
Bebop so the critic's say, well that was OK!
Who were the originators, do you know?
Yardbird and Dizzy tell
Have a much stronger appeal
The real American folksong is a rag
A mental jag
A rhythmic tonic for the chronic blues
The critics called it a "joke
Foes that want to make sure my casket's closed
Rap critics that say he's "Money, cash, hoes"
I'm from the hood, stupid, what type of facts are those?
understood
What did you say when the London critics voiced their opinion of your show?
I know that I should leave
Oh, Jerry, here's a question, rather
Foes that want to make sure my casket's closed
Rap critics that say he's "Money Cash Hoes"
I'm from the hood, stupid, what type of facts are those?
If
making
And let me remind you of the things that I´ve been trough
All lies, all critics that I´ve been trough
Never thought that I´d be writing my songs
the underground, the rebel, a lower level
They came to see the maniac psychopath
The critics heard of me, and the aftermath
I don't give a damn and it shows
on the gat patrol
Foes that wanna make sure his casket's closed
Rap critics that say he's "Money, Cash, Hoes"
He's from the hood stupid, what type of facts
why why why
I guess I shoulda known better
It's never the critic that counts
'Cause critics only wanna talk
While enlightened minds and open
gonna' hold I back
Watch your back
A parasite is on the attack
So what you want to say about
Critics and their critical minds
I just love the way they
I was walking through the forest having some fun
When I saw that New York critic
All slumped over a stump, yeah
All of my friends had a swinging
Yeah, yeah
I wonder when I love me is enough
I wonder when I love me is enough
I'm my own worst critic
Talk a whole lot of shit
But I'm a ten out
Well, fuck it, I ain't budging
Get at me if you want more
You wanna hate me then hate me
The critics are blasting me
You know the type, loud as motorbike
a little static
You don't want to run into a psycho's automatic
Ooh-wee, we're doin too much
I wish I had a New York critic in my clutch
Ooh-wee, we're
for rhymes
You got to save it for David and wave it if you think that I gave it
I never gave a damn about a critic so save it
I run amuk demanding
a beautiful tune
The kind that inspires and helps me get through
Ah, if I said I can't, he's say, "You can"
He was my toughest critic, ah, my biggest fan
Now
the most phenomenal artist of any and all time
I made a Frankenstein, my design impressed
Backpackers and press who said my house was a mess
Critics
Pi'erre, where'd you find this?)
She gave me her digits, shoot your shot like ammunition
Money talk, my pockets critics, yeah
Fuck the check up, yeah
.jpg/220px-The_Backyard_(album).jpg "The Backyard Critics")
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