Gone
What happened to passionate rapping where lyrics actually mattered
Before contractually imprisoned artists simply just chattered
Saying anything depending on their hooks and their beats
Unstable and unable to willingly accept their defeat
What happened to artists that strived to construct a classic in every aspect
Before their only focus was just a cashed check
Their vocal cords are sewage pipes spewing sy trash
I dispose of em in my mental furnace they turn to ash
Where's the concepts it's like artists forgot its definition
Whole album is a single but they still get recognition
My st is like penicillin an antibiotic simply exotic full of lyrical vaccinations and logic
What happened to maybe having just 1 or 2 features
Now every song has a guest something's wrong here I guess
Maybe I just ain't progressed wanting hip-hop to regress
And go back to them 90s days I'm just stuck in my 90s ways
Why can't artists act their age and just grow the fk up
Maybe I'm just confused maybe I should shut the fk up
Maybe I should conform but then my ns might ask what the fs up
So I continue being myself hoping I luck up
Cause honestly I'm not saying that all of rap is wrong
But at times we disagree and we just don't get along
I'm just tryna be the next big artist that gets on
But deep down I know the game that I used to love is gone
Gone
Gone never to be seen or heard from again
It's like the game I used to love is simply gone with the wind
I love the ladies they're so hard to resist
At times I wish that STDs didn't exist
So I can meet her at the bar
Take her home and drop her draws
Fk her raw and give her a night that quickly just drops her jaw
Then the next night repeat the process
I met a chick that swallowed more c*m than her stomach could process
I'm possessed when it comes to sex my hormones won't leave me alone
Getting hd from a chick while talking to more on the phone
I guess it's safe to say that I'm in need of some sex rehab
But for now every chick I meet better have knee pads
Race and ethnicity means nothing
Personality means little just as long as I'm in the middle
I love when their face is in the pillow cringing and moaning
Then they hop on and ride my st so by now I'm zonin'
Then I hear a ringing from my phone and I wanna answer
But the wetness from her py keeps on spreading like cancer
So I'm stuck not knowing that soon I'll be out of luck
That was the tenth time my girl called by now she's had enough
She suspects I'm cheating and I know infidelity's wrong
So by the time I got home my girl had up and gone, gone
Gone never to be seen or heard from again
It's like the girl I used to love is simply gone with the wind
I'm not perfect by any means I never claim to be
My thoughts fly out like planes while everything else seems so plain to me
There's no originality everything is the same to me
So I ask the question what is fortune and fame to me
My statements are blatant much hotter than the hands of Satan
Curing these patients so I thank em all for waiting patient
To greatness I'm adjacent so I can't get complacent
The studio's Camp Crystal Lake and I'm killin' like Jason
My pad is a hockey mask and my pen the machete
My flow defines deadly designed with a refined medley
My exuberant movements are abundant
I'm not claiming to be the best rapper alive cause that would be redundant
I strive for excellence not perfection
Protection from the infection that has many rap fans diseased
Displeased, dissatisfied with a feeling of unease
So I figured the job is left up to me to appease
But I'm not begging for your acceptance nah that's not my style
I'm just tryna overcome the odds using my guile
I feel under appreciated when it comes to writing songs
Maybe you'll learn to appreciate me more if I was gone, gone
Gone never to be seen or heard from again
It's like that na Q is simply gone with wind
Before contractually imprisoned artists simply just chattered
Saying anything depending on their hooks and their beats
Unstable and unable to willingly accept their defeat
What happened to artists that strived to construct a classic in every aspect
Before their only focus was just a cashed check
Their vocal cords are sewage pipes spewing sy trash
I dispose of em in my mental furnace they turn to ash
Where's the concepts it's like artists forgot its definition
Whole album is a single but they still get recognition
My st is like penicillin an antibiotic simply exotic full of lyrical vaccinations and logic
What happened to maybe having just 1 or 2 features
Now every song has a guest something's wrong here I guess
Maybe I just ain't progressed wanting hip-hop to regress
And go back to them 90s days I'm just stuck in my 90s ways
Why can't artists act their age and just grow the fk up
Maybe I'm just confused maybe I should shut the fk up
Maybe I should conform but then my ns might ask what the fs up
So I continue being myself hoping I luck up
Cause honestly I'm not saying that all of rap is wrong
But at times we disagree and we just don't get along
I'm just tryna be the next big artist that gets on
But deep down I know the game that I used to love is gone
Gone
Gone never to be seen or heard from again
It's like the game I used to love is simply gone with the wind
I love the ladies they're so hard to resist
At times I wish that STDs didn't exist
So I can meet her at the bar
Take her home and drop her draws
Fk her raw and give her a night that quickly just drops her jaw
Then the next night repeat the process
I met a chick that swallowed more c*m than her stomach could process
I'm possessed when it comes to sex my hormones won't leave me alone
Getting hd from a chick while talking to more on the phone
I guess it's safe to say that I'm in need of some sex rehab
But for now every chick I meet better have knee pads
Race and ethnicity means nothing
Personality means little just as long as I'm in the middle
I love when their face is in the pillow cringing and moaning
Then they hop on and ride my st so by now I'm zonin'
Then I hear a ringing from my phone and I wanna answer
But the wetness from her py keeps on spreading like cancer
So I'm stuck not knowing that soon I'll be out of luck
That was the tenth time my girl called by now she's had enough
She suspects I'm cheating and I know infidelity's wrong
So by the time I got home my girl had up and gone, gone
Gone never to be seen or heard from again
It's like the girl I used to love is simply gone with the wind
I'm not perfect by any means I never claim to be
My thoughts fly out like planes while everything else seems so plain to me
There's no originality everything is the same to me
So I ask the question what is fortune and fame to me
My statements are blatant much hotter than the hands of Satan
Curing these patients so I thank em all for waiting patient
To greatness I'm adjacent so I can't get complacent
The studio's Camp Crystal Lake and I'm killin' like Jason
My pad is a hockey mask and my pen the machete
My flow defines deadly designed with a refined medley
My exuberant movements are abundant
I'm not claiming to be the best rapper alive cause that would be redundant
I strive for excellence not perfection
Protection from the infection that has many rap fans diseased
Displeased, dissatisfied with a feeling of unease
So I figured the job is left up to me to appease
But I'm not begging for your acceptance nah that's not my style
I'm just tryna overcome the odds using my guile
I feel under appreciated when it comes to writing songs
Maybe you'll learn to appreciate me more if I was gone, gone
Gone never to be seen or heard from again
It's like that na Q is simply gone with wind
Credits
Writer(s): Gerry Mulligan
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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