| When I placed all my burdens on Him
|
| He washed them all from me
|
| Ok, let go
|
| All the way up
|
| All the way up
|
| All the way up
|
| All the way up
|
| All the way up
|
| Let me say…
|
| All the way up
|
| It’s Usahng
|
| Jiggy wit' the kid wit' his own style
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| Chilling in the city, we should simmer down
|
| Coming from the Grammy’s, with a semi-smile
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| Cuz' we done had more fun serving people in the city, yeah
|
| Let the window down, yeah
|
| Go and let the beat knock
|
| Squad is in the house
|
| Smash your Windows, I call it Steve Jobs
|
| We ride, we ride
|
| Atta boy, I’mma go Bobby Boucher in the city
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| Handing out that living water boy
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| I just hit my rhythm, boy
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| This is not your tempo, boy
|
| I just hit my rhythm, boy
|
| This is not your tempo, boy
|
| Ooh, HGA is simple boy
|
| Louie Free, he with me, draw a crowd, no stencil boy, whoo
|
| They got Drake to play it safe, I think they conned him
|
| I love God, do what I wanna
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| Gotta deal with it, wheels spinning, and I still live it
|
| Never chill with it, still winning, in the field with it
|
| Put the real in it, no concealing it
|
| But to Him winnin'
|
| Never spill wit it
|
| Didn’t kill wit it
|
| But to kill wit it
|
| You could still get it
|
| I could still feel
|
| In the field, here to seal
|
| Then there’s in the field wit us
|
| Really, ain’t no fear in us
|
| Really, ain’t no fear in us
|
| You might wanna get with us
|
| Way up
|
| All the way up
|
| I am as free as my hair
|
| Cut it or comb it, forget it
|
| I’ma do what I’ve been called to do, not what’s expected
|
| Just for the record
|
| Just for the record I know…
|
| I just hit my rhythm, boy
|
| This is not your tempo, boy
|
| I just hit my rhythm, boy
|
| But this is not your tempo
|
| This is not your tempo
|
| This is not your tempo
|
| Don’t nobody own us
|
| Don’t nobody own us
|
| Don’t nobody own us
|
| Don’t nobody own us
|
| Pull up to the meeting with ripped jeans and Adidas
|
| The new intellectual is what you seeing, homie
|
| We can go toe to toe with any so-and-so
|
| So we gotta pen game and we just ballin' dawg, aight?
|
| Explicit as ever, vicious as ever
|
| Christian and clever, diss it dismiss it this is just better
|
| Vision is better
|
| Making high art
|
| But high art can’t revive hearts
|
| I’m a do this God talk
|
| Don’t need a pity party my people pity ya party
|
| The party I’m a part of imparts partials of pardons
|
| Can’t pick apart any part of the pick don’t want no part of it
|
| I played a artist, now pardon, I brought my partners in
|
| I think I know what we revealing
|
| Life is over, Easy, everybody’s shell cracked
|
| I, holdin my dignity never said that
|
| We got bigger fish to fry, know when to scale back
|
| I just hit my rhythm, boy
|
| (I just hit my rhythm, boy)
|
| You can’t match my tempo, boy
|
| (You can’t match my tempo)
|
| I just hit my rhythm
|
| And you can’t help but fear love
|
| Think I found it, I
|
| Think I found it, I
|
| Yeah
|
| I think I found my rhythm, boy
|
| Not one blemish does He see
|
| When I placed all my burdens on Him
|
| He washed them all from me |