Here's “BLOOMING BLOSSOMS (FLOWERS PT. 1)” LYRICS performed by JOEY BADA$$.
Now
If I ain't know no better
I could have been sucked right up into the setup
But I kept my head up
And every time I fell I would get up
See I don't need no nines and Berettas
I kill with the lines and the letters with the verbs and the nouns
Just a kid trying get his sound heard around
Jump into cyphers and keep the old timers astounded
They said he was the best in the surroundance
Cause everyone around him was drowinin'
In the fair one, no one son could pound him
With the lyrics, you pray you hear it
They say his bad hood couldn’t match his good spirit
And one day his mom and dad will be cheerin' to his grammy nomination
And proclamation to his world domination
Inauguration into greatness
From making rations to cakin'
2 AM and he be up like attic
He's an addict, alarm clock pop, he back at it
Barely got any sleep
But, he gotta eat
Cause ain't shit cheap and his soul/sole torned out of feet
He got dreams, but don't plan on sleeping until he reach 'em
Until you out feastin', paying houses where you sleep in
Until his album ready and his fans get it leaking just for sneak peaks and
Until then, his home is the booth
He spittin' to the plaque it's poof off his tooth
Like Hocus Pocus
Or word he's too focused
You should quote it
His goal is the denial that he wrote it
Flowin' like oceans and menstruals
Ink from the pen, lies within my credentials
They told me that I could be mental
But mommma always said that I was special
Haters tell me I should stop
My enemies tryin' see me in the box
So the streets tell me to cop a Glock and pop it
But something down deep tells me I'm the next prophet
Like the new Muhammad or the new Marcus Garvey
Or probably, it makes sense why I'm so heavily guarded
Wait, no, please restart it
I'm heavenly guarded, it's the golden child and for a while
God been looking down with a smile
Watchin' me prosper
Attackin' with the raps and then conquer
The junior Frank Sinatra, rapping out the Opera
You should spectate in the booth with a suit and binoculars
Like nigga its a honor, it's motherfuckin' honor
This image may be subject to copyright.
Now
If I ain't know no better
I could have been sucked right up into the setup
But I kept my head up
And every time I fell I would get up
See I don't need no nines and Berettas
I kill with the lines and the letters with the verbs and the nouns
Just a kid trying get his sound heard around
Jump into cyphers and keep the old timers astounded
They said he was the best in the surroundance
Cause everyone around him was drowinin'
In the fair one, no one son could pound him
With the lyrics, you pray you hear it
They say his bad hood couldn’t match his good spirit
And one day his mom and dad will be cheerin' to his grammy nomination
And proclamation to his world domination
Inauguration into greatness
From making rations to cakin'
2 AM and he be up like attic
He's an addict, alarm clock pop, he back at it
Barely got any sleep
But, he gotta eat
Cause ain't shit cheap and his soul/sole torned out of feet
He got dreams, but don't plan on sleeping until he reach 'em
Until you out feastin', paying houses where you sleep in
Until his album ready and his fans get it leaking just for sneak peaks and
Until then, his home is the booth
He spittin' to the plaque it's poof off his tooth
Like Hocus Pocus
Or word he's too focused
You should quote it
His goal is the denial that he wrote it
Flowin' like oceans and menstruals
Ink from the pen, lies within my credentials
They told me that I could be mental
But mommma always said that I was special
Haters tell me I should stop
My enemies tryin' see me in the box
So the streets tell me to cop a Glock and pop it
But something down deep tells me I'm the next prophet
Like the new Muhammad or the new Marcus Garvey
Or probably, it makes sense why I'm so heavily guarded
Wait, no, please restart it
I'm heavenly guarded, it's the golden child and for a while
God been looking down with a smile
Watchin' me prosper
Attackin' with the raps and then conquer
The junior Frank Sinatra, rapping out the Opera
You should spectate in the booth with a suit and binoculars
Like nigga its a honor, it's motherfuckin' honor
This image may be subject to copyright.
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