clyde cyrus – 1998 lyrics
[produced by basquiat]
[verse 1]
i swear i’m bound for hell
coming straight out my outer shell
like “fuck school, all i need is an ounce to sell”
cause dumb’s cool & smart’s lame
so stay outta clyde’s gun range or lose your wallet and chump change
ain’t much changed since our slavery days
besides the format, and the place we fighting the war at
riding horsebacks as i’m ghostwriting some more raps
never paid attention in cl-ss, i can’t afford that
i’m more than a mothafucking mc
b-tch, i’m hungry for the money when i’m puffing this tree
and my stomach’s empty, clan coming 6 deep
got me fucked up if you think you fucking with me
b-tch please, see the way i’m spitting this heat
got me living out my dreams and i don’t even get sleep
got adhd, selling beats and paying fees
pushing keys seems to be the recipe to make cheese
[hook]
no shame in my game, send the blame to me
i move discreet through these streets, can’t stay asleep
as you can see ain’t no motherfuckin’ place for me
and truthfully, that’s the motherfucking way it should be
i’m blazing this weed, living life aimlessly
scars on the skin covering the pain beneath
ya heard? i sip syrup while spitting these sick words
smoking herb, getting higher than a bird
[verse 2]
my life is all a daze
i’m amazed i made out this crazy maze
flow’s lazy, maybe cause i’m blazing potent haze
banging b-tches on my walls
got ’em dropping drawls on my b-lls after shots of alcohol
you see, i spawn flows on these blond hoes
walk ’em to the condo & knock ’em down like dominoes
back then, remember when the women wasn’t into him?
they called him feminine
but now i’m back again, going hard as hell
sparking l’s outside, but it’s hard to tell
because i got the contacts to the bomb threats
leave your -ss lynched and ditched if you attempt to snitch
i’m pimping, b-tch; focused on getting rich
fuck the past, i’m came to take the presence like the christmas grinch
peace to my peeps in steeznation
we see the cheese waiting but we need to keep patient
[hook]
no shame in my game, send the blame to me
i move discreet through these streets, can’t stay asleep
as you can see ain’t no motherfuckin’ place for me
and truthfully, that’s the motherfucking way it should be
i’m blazing this weed, living life aimlessly
scars on the skin covering the pain beneath
ya heard, i sip syrup while spitting these sick words
smoking herb, getting higher than a bird
[outro]
it was all a daze
we getting paid like we knew we would
from the hood, often misunderstood, but it’s all good x2
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