You're in my heart, you're in my You're the star that will always you'll be with me
Uh, it go You see the inner depths of a man's soul? Or turtles pouring out of manholes is balance Between a comic and a conscious, that's the Between the solitary and the that I examines I imagine was a figure Would be the start of peace and the transformation of niggas Like the of liquor But that's turnin' them into blood And we'll be right where we was Not a peace-sign, but a fascination with So I can cut Myself off from the of empress, empires, and the sinners For of human suffering And other things to impede my publishing and editorials That's gon' it back to us again A boomerang might as Halle and Eddie and everybody fuckin' it
You're in my heart, in my mind You're the star that will shine Forever you'll be
Even though independent ain't got one I got some and more to No more My motor-ware don't my motivate to mate Also I drive to stay alive and this over there My so mad, so no alcohol in here I'm Spears on my Jay-Z shit Affion on the skit Now how many more can I make just one voice might call it fake shit This deep shit It's my me impersonatin' we in every rap I speak with I hope you're speakin' for me, if I'm speechless I'mma be you Even you're not here to be with I I see these gangsters actin' like teachers Wake up out sleep, then they dream And the world so Martin King-less
You're in my heart, in my mind You're the star will always shine Forever be with
And to my Heron, Gil Scott In a with Baldwin On a jet plane with no fear for But wishin' it never Reminiscent of the time Presently en route to the rhymes of the time Magazine With more sugar and milk than coffee Aborted rhymes, rotten beats, and hooks Roads as bumpy as braille Fail cools, bad French, and mad push at the food at the starving soiree A choice of one easy at a time take three the hard way Trying to be as abstract as And vulgar, the more shocking the profitable A baby fed molten And sat a pedestal promote getting called 24 carot souls How to this Insightful remarks as the best thing I've ever heard is silence Some more technically In a faux Spanish romantic of a Marxist dialectic listen to the critics, pointless is the common passerby Might as not even exist, not even a bit In the event of my demise everything I prize to the poor And to the oppressors, I a war And so on and so