Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Minimalism, artist - Billy Woods. Album song Camouflage [Re-Release], in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 09.02.2009
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Backwoodz Studioz
Song language: English
Minimalism |
I goddam done been having raps since way before the goddam tower collapsed |
Inhaled enough dust to snap your synapse and I’ll still laugh |
Consumed more than a cartoon, can’t consume in the South |
Religion lives on the side of a sand dune, I can carry the tune |
Here you go now, carry this balloon |
This has been a strange trip, tired offering arms to people |
You fired, if I had a penny for every son I sired, I’d be mired |
In debt looking wired on the web, see the future science set |
I got a manic panic button on the jet in case I get stir crazy |
Don’t tell me about shady, I was busy plugging the First Lady |
I saw him giving me the eye maybe, maybe |
What’s fortune, things that others have so often |
I feel so fortunate, still walking with all limbs |
Need to respect the little things, they become small gems |
Straight no chaser, lyrical freebaser, speed racer, amphetamines |
Mirrors and razors, pages hit me like tazers swinging light sabers |
Hard labor, bread and water, quote me on quarters, no tax I’m not your daughter |
Got beef with cousin, catch concussion, biscuits bust it |
Honey Jack sipping Robitussin, keep the engine running, that’s dive city |
I-95 miss Billy, nigga pass me the nine-milli, what you smoking the illy |
Hold your own, I’mma hold this bone like hold the phone |
Stop the presses, switch addresses, move it like and 6'5″ Nigerians |
Secret experiments rappers want the formula and hold it on my cornea |
Known as the foreigner, faceless men in black, illegal alien rap |
Undocumented visa like sunny cheeba, sativa bring the MCs |
Follow the leader |
What’s fortune, things that others have so often |
I feel so fortunate, still walking with all limbs |
Need to respect the little things, they become small gems |
Rolling on me, pot wholes fumble |
That love bumble and the blow bubbles |
But can’t fumble when you hold your brake |
Get high when we burn yards |
Get drunk bumping cars like woofers in your doors |
Living raw, nothing but powers we getting to wars |
Across boarders everybody swinging swords |
We live G lords, never bow to the law |
Live to G spit on you peons |
Of you negroes and sick flows |
We represent four-dollar heroes and negroes |
Not only copping benzos, fortunate as we got those hoopties |
1−2-3 spitamatics, we represent straight havocs from the young ones |
That used to like having fun on the blocks |
Living in all day, spin that rap dangerous |
From the dangerous most dirtiest traps |
You heard it the word that’ll come from the most |
Young guns that’ll spit til you gone |
Jade up, spit til the dawning, yo you niggas |
Ain’t performing live over there |
Niggas came to spare stones, just throwing it at you |
Straight up clap you, fools |
What’s fortune, things that others have so often |
I feel so fortunate, still walking with all limbs |
Need to respect the little things, they become small gems |