Luyện nghe bài hát To Bob Ross With Love

Now who you know leave the scene messier than by Jackson Pollock
Throwing multi-colored thoughts at a pace?
I'll make a mess, you it and make sense of it,
Then get back to me at your convenience.
Check my verbal sequence as I texturize tracks
Seven to be exact.
Eliminate the with a firm brush stroke.
I paintily.
Lyricists crumbling from my scumbling technique
As I tweak audio and visual
my drips minimal, messages subliminal
'Cos me and rap go way back, we
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 my chiaroscuro inspiration spark and a knife
Now watch me rock the like Basquiat, minus the heroin
And make my face popular Andy did to Marilyn.
It's kinda scary real art gets left behind
While they take bullshit and start sellin it to folks
But I remain humble as long as Gray Squirrel continues hot shit
On his twelve-hundred color wheels of steel.
mass appeal.
Art is art only the real can truly it.
So open eyes and listen.
your ears with vision.
Or do it cause you it or for cash

your decision
That's decision
That's your

like I'm torn between two worlds
A paintbrush and a
A or a beat
CD or LP
Anything goes 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 chose the that I chose.
You know the cycle asshole, front.
It goes inspiration and productivity a sense of self-worth and in steps depression
back and forth and forth and back.
Should I paint a picture or record a
A gift or a curse? I don't know I'm still
But over the years I've found ways to hide it.
And those that the passion I have may despise it,
But my made me this way. I thank her everyday.
So tell kids to keep coloring outside the lines,
Until they they limitations and they minds is free.
Tell them teachers you want your money back this time,
And tell Bob Ross for all the happy trees.
And tell my momma that her baby boy is doing fine,
Although running out of patience, but his mind is free.
And my pops that I'll pay his money back sometime
And his son is two steps away from where he needs to be.