Lyrics:
don't want to
Be black anymore, or, you don't want to rap anymore
Or, you do a wack tour, or, you get in trouble with the law
Or, your fans you
yo what an artist said, they're going
Yo yo yo!
Yo yo yo!
Brad's off twisting a win
And I can't afford to pay the feds
And now I'm never late
a hotel room in New York city
'Round about the time a friend or ours, little Steven,
Was putting together a record of artists against apartheid
This is
forms because they destroy illusion and reveal truth.
The artist was attempting to make art more than something to just look at,
they wanted it
That the artist's struggle for integrity is a kind of metaphor for the universal
And daily struggle for all human beings
On the face of this
and hosed down, pimped up and ho'd down
Plus, I got a whole city to hold down
From the bottom, so the top's the only place to go now
Now throw your hands
was written in a hotel room in New York City
Right about the time a friend of ours, Little Steven
Was putting together a record of artists against
walking round the city
with the tallest shoes
meeting with her friend
she is crazy too
singing on the stage
with his wiskey in hand
now you are
Believe it, quiz Ripley about the kid mickey
The artist with 4 eyes
But not from Mississippi
Ironically I ain't got nothing
But vision in me i'm ill when I
the new frontier
Well I can't wait 'til I move to the city
'Til I finally make up my mind
To learn design and study overseas
Have you got a steady
is in
You'll be a witness to that game of chance in the sky
You know we've got to win
Here at home we'll play in the city
Powered by the sun
She's got everything she needs
She's an artist, she don't look back
She's got everything she needs
She's an artist, she don't look back
She takes
Morning fields of amber gray
Weathered faces lined in pain
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand
Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
Catea
she holds the keys to Iad
Agrippina was her name
Twas I that she would sell
Oh what an Artist Dies in me
Oh what an Artist Dies in me
Oh what
could hear the crowd
But they can't hear me cause lil' jon's preachin too loud
That's when the bishop said last words for friends and family
Then the fans
a capital crime
Everybody's doin' the time
Take me down to the Paradise City
Where the grass is green and the girls are pretty
Oh, won't you please take
I did not diss Taylor Swift
And I've never dissed her
First thing is I'm an artist and as an artist
I will express how I feel with no censorship
to do
It i am an artist and I care about humanity
Yes I am personally rich and I can
Buy furs and houses for my family
But I need access to more money
Blue sing la lune sing lagoon
Visions are making me stay
The artist pretending it's art
The question is where do you pay
Unpack my case one more
kissed
Baby tongue kissin' on your stomach, and havin' lunch
Kickin' drums through the city slums, nigga (run)
Red rum, red rum, break, give a nigga leg
Do you enjoy your sight inside?
Disconnect and let me drift,
Until my upside down is right side in.
Society must let the artist go,
To wander
reveals the plot
Age of thirty, curtain drop
Public enemy I am not
Oh what an artist dies in me
Hah
Oh what an artist dies in me
Oh what an artist dies
BT me mein
BT me mein
City me ghumrela kabse
CITY Me mein
CITY me mein
GT me dhunrela kabse
BT Me mein dhunrela kabse
Homies the jo sathme
City me
and get in that flow.
You know, you can bike from one city to another if you want and... Be careful, but if you dare, I really do recommend it.
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