Luyện nghe bài hát Happy Little Trees

Now who you leave the scene
than canvas's by Jackson Pollock
Throwing multicolored thoughts at a pace
I make a you dissect it and make sense of it
Then get to me at your earliest convenience
my verbal sequence as I texturize these tracks
Seven to be exact eliminate the whack
With a firm stroke I mc paintily
Lyricists begin from my scumbling technique
As I tweak your audio and visual my drips minimal messages subliminal
me and rap go way back we compliment
So together we one another that's common sense
High intensity catches the eye your jaw
Be a real critic not explicit false props
I keep my deep my lights bright I'm very thorough
With my churascurro spark and a knife
Now me rock the spot like ? minus the heroin
And make my face popular Andy did to Marilyn
Its kinda scary when real art left behind
While they take bullshit and start sellin it to blind
But I remain humble as long as ? continues hot shit
On his twin twelve-hundred wheels of steel
Fuck mass appeal art is art only the can truly feel it
So open your and listen
your ears with vision
Or do it cause you it
Or for cash that's decision
That's decision
That's decision

Its like I'm between two worlds
A paintbrush and a
A canvas or a
CD or LP
Anything when my ink pen flows
And God only knows where its bring me next
So I'm inclined to like paint rhymes and spit kaleidoscopes with one eye
And I if you chose the path that I chose
You know the cycle ass ho front
It goes inspiration and productivity then a sense of self and in steps depression
Like back and forth and and back
Should I paint a picture or record a
A gift or a curse I don't know I'm undecided
But over the years I've found clever ways to it
And those lack the passion I have may despise it
But my momma made me this way I thank her
So tell kids to keep coloring outside the lines
Until they lose they limitations and they is free
Tell them teachers that you want your back this time
And Bob Ross for all the happy little trees
And my momma that her baby boy is doing just fine
hes running out of patience but his mind is free
And tell my pops that I'll pay his back sometime
And that his son is two steps from where he needs to be