|
Journalist - Self Explanatory lyrics
{Journalist (Journalist) Uh, Journalist, (idealist), and it's a journey (I'm the journalist) Urban wars (the flow) I don't fuck around Crazy World, Motown motherfuckers Uh, dream team (Idealist, and it's a journey, I'm the Journalist) I don't fuck around dunny Yo, aiyyo, right from the gate, dog It shouldn't be no type of debate 'Bout who's the nicest with a mic and a tape You know I'm bright in the waist When I'm shining up the pipe with an eight Before I leave you with a trifiling face If you got Salsbury I play Marbury Hit you with the handle Before I light you up like the wick that's on a candle Have your bitch watch shots ripping through your flannel Lower parts to your heart sticking to her sandals Journalist, but you can call me tupee splitter You sweeter than the bottom of your Kool-Aid pitcher You think it's just music you hear, I bust a few in the air While your lil' sister's doing your hair Still in your crib, one shot pilling your wig I blow out your face, while the chrome's still in your hair Too severe for a medical truck I could bet a few bucks They gon' probably have to shovel you up, what (Hook- Samples + and random DJ scratches) Idealist, and it's a journey, oh I'm the journalist The flow, (I don't fuck around) Uh, Idealist, and it's a journey, oh I'm the journalist The flow (I don't fuck around, dunny) {Journalist See yo, I keep them business working, 'Till the wrists is hurting 'Till your shit ooze out like this detergent I still keep the chickens lurking Got bitches circlin' 'cause they see me in the whip with Erving I will show you a nina, If you don't think the hard-toe can turn your torso to a sprinkler Then I pull off in the beautiful cat, New Jag, no tints, I'm a beautiful cat 1-6, y'all know what we do to you, black All my niggas squeeze triggers 'til they cuticles crack If we got a full clip, we'll be sending you half Hole in your legs, give your calf a genuine draft Like the bottle of beer, then a minute you pass Tap your pockets, see how many Benzes you had Hit the stack, tell Carl Carl to send a few scags From my criminal staff from that cynical ave Machos mothefucker Hook {Journalist See yo, I studied the block, so I got damn good methods On how to burn strips like I can cook breakfast You ain't stabilized, it help when your label rise Every time I turn around, your face in the cable guide To my rap books, you can find me shackled Blow out your shit, leave it in your Mommy's scrapple I could, kindly catch you, let the tommy clap you For you with more hoes than a Chinese apple You hit gasoline talk fast and lean Pop fly, and get left with half a wing Watch who you talking to get your glasses cleaned Before I be forced to empty out this magazine Barrels throwing out twenty like a Jack in Queens Leave you somewhere throwing up your last (?) Most of the week, you find Journ over in beats When it comes to the throne, homes, you just holding my seat, uh Hook |
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Last added lyrics |
|---|
 Rather Ripped by Sonic Youth |
 Fear of Flying by Mya |
 Getaway by Reef |
 Zizanie by Zazie |
 Pigeon John Is Dating Your Sister by Pigeon John |
