Luyện nghe bài hát To Bob Ross With Love

Now who you know leave the scene messier canvases by Jackson Pollock
Throwing multi-colored thoughts at a rapid
I'll a mess, you dissect it and make sense of it,
Then get back to me at earliest convenience.
Check my verbal sequence as I texturize these
layers to be exact.
Eliminate the whack with a brush stroke.
I paintily.
Lyricists crumbling from my scumbling technique
As I your audio and visual
Keep my drips minimal, messages
me and rap go way back, we compliment
So together we enhance one another, that's sense.
High catches the eye, your jaw drops
Be a critic, not explicit with false props.
I keep my deep, my lights bright.
I'm very thorough with my inspiration spark and a knife
Now watch me rock the spot Basquiat, minus the heroin
And make my face like Andy did to Marilyn.
kinda scary when real art gets left behind
While they take and start sellin it to blind folks
But I humble as long as Gray Squirrel continues spinnin hot shit
On his twelve-hundred color wheels of steel.
Fuck appeal.
Art is art the real can truly feel it.
So your eyes and listen.
Combine ears with vision.
Or do it cause you love it or for

That's decision
That's your
That's your

It's like I'm torn two worlds
A paintbrush and a
A or a beat
CD or LP
goes when my ink pen flows
And God knows where its gonna bring me next
So I'm inclined to like paint rhymes and spit kaleidoscopes with one eye
And I suppose if you the path that I chose.
You know the asshole, don't front.
It inspiration and productivity then a sense of self-worth and in steps depression
Like back and and forth and back.
Should I paint a or record a track?
A gift or a curse? I don't know I'm still
But over the years found clever ways to hide it.
And those that lack the passion I may despise it,
But my momma me this way. I thank her everyday.
So tell them to keep coloring outside the lines,
Until they lose they and they minds is free.
Tell them teachers that you want money back this time,
And tell Bob Ross for all the happy trees.
And my momma that her baby boy is doing just fine,
he's running out of patience, but his mind is free.
And tell my pops I'll pay his money back sometime
And that his son is two steps away where he needs to be.