Blu - Never Be Another Me lyrics
[Blu - Never Be Another Me lyrics]
Never be another, yeah
I'm dope like, September ninth
Midnight in NY i reflect
Blunt to the head before I close my eyes
And eject the stress I keep on my neck
And butcher beats that I chop
Like raw meat on these decks, yeah
And techniques
Feels like I got my first piece yesterday
The way I can't stop cutting
Niggas like I'm Jenna Haze
Pen in hand, eager like I'm finna blaze
Big bass banging out your speakers
Feel the waves
Ocean deep, Zissou on the beats
The flow is Jacques Cousteau on a boat
Let's roll, no leash, freedom of my youth
Used to preach, now I'm seeking the truth
Cut my roots to reboot
"Feels good to be you" he said to himself
"Mental note to your ego bro'
You need some help"
I was stealth 'fore the buzz
Bubble back in the days
Now they're done with me
Until the press is back in my face
But they can interview you, but
Don't get confused
You're just like all the others
Because there'll never be another
Never be another, yeah
Some got juice, and others more loot
But, don't get confused
Now there'll never be another
Never be another
I used to wonder if somebody
Will remember me as John
When the smoke clears and the hype's all gone
Get my, throat clear fore the blunts
Start weighing in
And get my life right 'fore
The money makes a difference
They think I got it now
So they looking at me different
I'm just getting used to it
Cause I'm bound to get digit's
It was in my Dad's wrist when
He used it for pitching
In the kitchen with the little air twitching
And my Grandmama bitching
I was minding my business, having fun
Just, finding my senses
Nowadays nothing makes sense
So stopped trying to make a difference
And appreciated life for what it is, listen
Guitars flip around the song
That the humming birds
Whisper to me early this morn'
They said "there'll never be another" listen
Yeah i see some rock jewels
And make plans with Jews
But ah, don't get confused
I'll tell you like my Mother
Never be another
Poetry that's a part of me
The heart of me jots
I rock beats to keep from artery clots
Straight up and down
I found an old scroll folded
In the pocket of my jacket that I
Wore the last time I saw me
Rap is not a hobby, or a job
Or a sport in short
It's 500 years, finally being free
Flying like a bird over sharks in the sea
Until I find me, this is how I spit