Canvas Art

I ain't never lived in a fancy house with a grand entrance and a fancy couch
I don't even drive a brand new car, shit, I ain't even got no plans tomorrow
If the world blows up, I'mma stand on stars
Stand on stars
I might land on Mars, I'm so in touch I'm handling bars
The way Bob Ross paints his canvas art
Paints his canvas art

I got happy little trees in my rap melodies, I'mma leave them there
Leave them there, Yeah
Cause I don't have a lot of things, but these J's on my feet, they the cleanest pair
They the cleanest pair
When I rap about the deeds in my past, that's when all these people stare
But I'm standing my ground with these cleats I've been wearing
I guess you can say that I DeMarcus Ware em'
That I DeMarcus Ware em'
And it seems so unfair that you seem unaware
While you're sleeping upstairs
I'm creeping out here, it's me I've been staring
I guess you can say I'm the gleam from the glare
I'm painting my scene underneath the streetlights for weeks
While I just peep down the barrel, I'm camping
Camping
And I'm painting my canvas, letting my cadence go rampant
Rampant

Yeah, look bruh, every bristle from my brush is made out of goat hair
Every album, every song, every legend, plucked one right from they head
Yeah

I ain't never lived in a fancy house with a grand entrance and a fancy couch
I don't even drive a brand new car, shit, I ain't even got no plans tomorrow
If the world blows up, I'mma stand on stars
Stand on stars
I might land on Mars, I'm so in touch, I'm handling bars
The way Bob Ross paints his canvas art
Paints his canvas art

Yeah
So shout out to the goats, every legend that walked before me

Yo, I'm a product of Nas, Royce, Em, Mom's Spaghetti, Tech N9ne
I'mma wreck rhymes like a semi while I'm dropping these bombs like Remy
Hey Ma
Any day Doc, you can hit me up and we can make a song
We can make a song
I'mma get rich or die trying to blaze it all up in a Philly
Philly
Turn my one dollar to a milli
Milli
They said I was soft, like really
Really
They said it was off, like that's so silly, I'm hitting just call me the Billy club
Billy's the name
But what's really dumb, these idiots, they say they don't feel me none
Pretty much want me to quit and start giving things up
But I can't take a knee, I'm beginning my run
Im beginning my run
I'm dipping my brush, I'm whipping things up and I'm cold as shit, you're oblivious
You can blow my dick
Blow my dick
Till I come into oblivion

Yeah, look bruh, it don't matter to me if this whole song ain't about painting a canvas art
Bruh, it's a metaphor
Matter of fact, my whole album is a metaphor

I ain't never lived in a fancy house with a grand entrance and a fancy couch
I don't even drive a brand new car, shit, I ain't even got no plans tomorrow
If the world blows up, I'ma stand on stars
Stand on stars
I might land on Mars, I'm so in touch, I'm handling bars
The way Bob Ross paints his canvas art
Paints his canvas art

Poetry
Imma stand on stars
I might land on mars
Like, Damn that's hard