O.C. - Creative Control (Word...Life) lyrics
[O.C. - Creative Control Word...Life lyrics]
Ah yeah, come on now ah yeah, come on now
Ah yeah, come on now ah yeah, come on now
Yo, stop, look, and heed
Participate in the reorganizing
Of a lyricist, decide the category
I fall into when I’m on the venue, I tend to
Serve a delicacy fella
Peep what’s on the menu
The slept-on phenomenon
The mic be in my palm and arm
Many want to hold me back
‘cause I’m coming on
Strong, subject matters are
Struck my imagination
Is wonder, I’s underestimated by sons of
Bitches who had power to sign me but fronted
Wanted stuff I didn’t fit into my phonics
So they’re uninvited
Telling me, "Do this, do that
Do this, do that, do this
In order to sell this
You got to pursue this type of program"
I ain’t no mascot for no
Massa like Mister Slave
Driver some-odd years ago, and, yo
O is not about to be
Between an imaginary tug-of-war
Feeding me park-style with bread
Like a pigeon, so I say:
Get your ears ready for creative control
‘Cause no one’s gonna tell me how
To sell out my soul, hah
Get your ears ready for creative control
‘Cause no one’s gonna tell me how
To sell out my soul, yeah
Come on now ah yeah, come on now
Ah yeah, come on now ah yeah, come on now
Ah yeah, come on now
Ah yeah, come on now ah yeah, come on now
Yo, stop, look, and heed
Participate in the reorganizing
Of a lyricist, decide the category
I fall into when I’m on the venue, I tend to
Serve a delicacy fella
Peep what’s on the menu
The slept-on phenomenon
The mic be in my palm and arm
Many want to hold me back
‘cause I’m coming on
Strong, subject matters are
Struck my imagination
Is wonder, I’s underestimated by sons of
Bitches who had power to sign me but fronted
Wanted stuff I didn’t fit into my phonics
So they’re uninvited
Telling me, "Do this, do that
Do this, do that, do this
In order to sell this
You got to pursue this type of program"
I ain’t no mascot for no
Massa like Mister Slave
Driver some-odd years ago, and, yo
O is not about to be
Between an imaginary tug-of-war
Feeding me park-style with bread
Like a pigeon, so I say:
Get your ears ready for creative control
‘Cause no one’s gonna tell me how
To sell out my soul, hah
Get your ears ready for creative control
‘Cause no one’s gonna tell me how
To sell out my soul, yeah
Come on now ah yeah, come on now
Ah yeah, come on now ah yeah, come on now
Ah yeah, come on now