CORRIGER LES PAROLES
Paroles : Canvas
Yeah
Cleaning my brushes, prepping the canvas
Strategic approach, no rushing the stanzas
The masterpieces, the master relinquish prime potency packed in consecutive releases
From Unforeseen, to Man Who Thinks, to Lucid Logic
Gifted, mystic, prolific lyric locksmith
You’re all out of options
I'm just hitting my stride
Diving into new disciplines, come along for the ride
Snapping photos, chopping samples, it's up a notch
Guide my helm through the realm of the Renaissance
It’s a hard drive to the gig
A bite of a sandwich is needеd when I surf on lines, casting my web
Crashing whoеver your band with
Left him for dead for disregarding the standards
Handed down from the mountaintop
I'm praying that these clowns will stop patty-caking
The beat pounds like the sound of a smack from a cinderblock
He pump faking, but I'm staying grounded
Pulling rabbits from habits, the crowd’s left astounded
They want that old Ill, that Got Lyrics, “1000 Whispers,” awkward flow Ill
But if you know Ill, every record I try to grow Ill
Progress is the measured way I show skill
Just know I’m cold still, below windchill, frost bitten
Stop giving these rappers passes for soft writtens like
Cleaning my brushes, prepping the canvas
Strategic approach, no rushing the stanzas
The masterpieces, the master relinquish prime potency packed in consecutive releases
From Unforeseen, to Man Who Thinks, to Lucid Logic
Gifted, mystic, prolific lyric locksmith
You’re all out of options
I'm just hitting my stride
Diving into new disciplines, come along for the ride
Snapping photos, chopping samples, it's up a notch
Guide my helm through the realm of the Renaissance
It’s a hard drive to the gig
A bite of a sandwich is needеd when I surf on lines, casting my web
Crashing whoеver your band with
Left him for dead for disregarding the standards
Handed down from the mountaintop
I'm praying that these clowns will stop patty-caking
The beat pounds like the sound of a smack from a cinderblock
He pump faking, but I'm staying grounded
Pulling rabbits from habits, the crowd’s left astounded
They want that old Ill, that Got Lyrics, “1000 Whispers,” awkward flow Ill
But if you know Ill, every record I try to grow Ill
Progress is the measured way I show skill
Just know I’m cold still, below windchill, frost bitten
Stop giving these rappers passes for soft writtens like
