Joyce
Let me introduce you to
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man
I feel like Joyce, yeeuh
Pauly put the cardioid in my hand
Gave me no choice
I had to be cheeky like a British boy
Believe me, came up with a ploy
Come on baby, feel the Illinois
That's where the story began, God
Oh, and I'm just what you need
Rapper, romantic, and florist indeed
Play some Vivaldi, I'm weak in the knees
E io sono pettirosso, capisci
I know you don't understand
Rappers is going in heavy-handed
I see them tryna play hard ball
But music like photo, it's better when candid
Done, botta bing botta boom
You ready bro? Yeah, I'm down for the move
Me and Brooklyn run the take, four states away
Still got the juice in the booth, sheesh
Tie myself to my desk chair
Just so I don't fall out when I'm writing this shit
I get too giddy, the feeling is with me
If life is a book then I'm writing this shit
I'm in the spot and I'm letting go
Close my eyes, think of Lastovo
Keep in mind what it costs to grow
How you use your time, man, it really shows
Lapis on my neckchain for the chakra, yeah, I keep it close
R-O to the B-I to the N, you already know
I'm really proud of you, bro
Really took this shit to another level, man
Feels like just yesterday we were freshmen, man
It's crazy
First year, we were classmates and neighbors
Second year, we were fly delta thetas
Cooped up in the back of a room
Who woulda knew a desire would bloom
In the soul of a young man
Interested in arts of my culture
So I had taught you
Mic in your right hand
Swearing your oaths, stepping your flows up, cheeyuh
Concocted Injections of Optimism
Put NSOM on a hoodie, I had to get one
Maneuvered through life as a free-thinker
Can't blink as I swing, tryna pre the sinker
Bumping Chopin as I jump out this pan
Preparing for flames that await as I land
Not tourist in your life, well me neither, man
This is the Florist, I don't know where the floor is
I left it half and hour ago
And yes, the corners of my mouth turning up
When I see that they vinyasa how they feeling my flow
And I know, I'm not a tourist in my life like I used to be
I'm not a Taurus, Gemini til the death of me
I've got a set amount of time and it's everything
If I look forward and behind that small window of mine
I see the same thing
Forever
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man
I feel like Joyce, yeeuh
Pauly put the cardioid in my hand
Gave me no choice
I had to be cheeky like a British boy
Believe me, came up with a ploy
Come on baby, feel the Illinois
That's where the story began, God
Oh, and I'm just what you need
Rapper, romantic, and florist indeed
Play some Vivaldi, I'm weak in the knees
E io sono pettirosso, capisci
I know you don't understand
Rappers is going in heavy-handed
I see them tryna play hard ball
But music like photo, it's better when candid
Done, botta bing botta boom
You ready bro? Yeah, I'm down for the move
Me and Brooklyn run the take, four states away
Still got the juice in the booth, sheesh
Tie myself to my desk chair
Just so I don't fall out when I'm writing this shit
I get too giddy, the feeling is with me
If life is a book then I'm writing this shit
I'm in the spot and I'm letting go
Close my eyes, think of Lastovo
Keep in mind what it costs to grow
How you use your time, man, it really shows
Lapis on my neckchain for the chakra, yeah, I keep it close
R-O to the B-I to the N, you already know
I'm really proud of you, bro
Really took this shit to another level, man
Feels like just yesterday we were freshmen, man
It's crazy
First year, we were classmates and neighbors
Second year, we were fly delta thetas
Cooped up in the back of a room
Who woulda knew a desire would bloom
In the soul of a young man
Interested in arts of my culture
So I had taught you
Mic in your right hand
Swearing your oaths, stepping your flows up, cheeyuh
Concocted Injections of Optimism
Put NSOM on a hoodie, I had to get one
Maneuvered through life as a free-thinker
Can't blink as I swing, tryna pre the sinker
Bumping Chopin as I jump out this pan
Preparing for flames that await as I land
Not tourist in your life, well me neither, man
This is the Florist, I don't know where the floor is
I left it half and hour ago
And yes, the corners of my mouth turning up
When I see that they vinyasa how they feeling my flow
And I know, I'm not a tourist in my life like I used to be
I'm not a Taurus, Gemini til the death of me
I've got a set amount of time and it's everything
If I look forward and behind that small window of mine
I see the same thing
Forever
Credits
Writer(s): Grayson Pitts
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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