It's precious precious your mind is precious. And I will fail It's through my eyes. Behind the smoking trail. Walk in fears. As it triggers and shouts.
[Dr. Dre]. One, two, three, kick it. . [The D.O.C.]. Aiyyo Dre, what's goin on man? What's goin on?. Ay what ch'all gonna do for this last record?. Nah tell me what cha'all gonna do?.
Yea, c'mon. C'mon, yea, c'mon. . Let's take a trip but not of the physical. Sense of direction on a kid who's artistical. Through a gallery of thoughts, of course it's dope.
언제였던건지 기억나지 않아. 자꾸 내 머리가 너로 어지럽던 시절. 한두번씩 떠오르던 생각. 자꾸 늘어가서 조금 당황스러운 이 마음. . 별일이 아닐 수 있다고 사소한 마음이라고. 내가 네게 자꾸 말을 하는 게 어색한걸. 사랑인가요 그대 나와 같다면 시작인가요. . 맘이 자꾸 그댈 사랑한대요.
uhn jeh yuht duhn guhn jee gee uhk nah jeen ah nah. jah kkoon nae muh ree gah nuh roh uh jee ruhp duhn shee jahk. hahn doo buhn ssheek dduh oh reu duhn saeng gahk.
Suffer. Arrogance. Reasserts itself. Vigilance. Obstacles enhanced by way of impotence. Shed thine. Vociferous. The subtle complex. My most suppressed dread defects.
Television. The means of worldwide infection. A gesture of illicit excursions. Relentless. No sign of the defenses. Staggering. Militant advertising. Raping deep with the gift of persuasion.
Ignite the flammable delirious. The fragrance of the thief. Inconspicuous. Application of abrasions on tender skin. Adapting. Mental vomiting, spew. In the face of you.
Ya mon, another day another time, set another fire. Blessed and behold when I and I come to take control and 'cause. Come on BT, drop. . Let me come. .
ProVision L-3 (x3). Conjure up suspicion.. ProVision L-3 (x3). Conjure up suspicion.. . The national security, consent of cohersion.. The alpha, the omega. I know it's an illusion, I can't see through it..
IF THIS IS PARADISE I DON'T WANNA STAY. CAUSE I DON'T THINK THAT IT COULD GET MUCH WORSE. IN ANOTHER LIFE ON A BETTER DAY. MAYBE I WOULD GET WHAT I DESERVE.
Dream of a funeral, blest temptress - behest me! -. A funeral thou'lt hark, swarth murderess - the Devil,. Thine feral grith with me, Poppea, be Hell's hap;.
She fills the rich kitsch niche where she sits. Making chit-chat, this and that, from the bits. Consumed, perfumed, detracts the room despite. Glowing, knowing she can head for the limelight.
Dream of a funeral, blest temptress - behest me! -. A funeral thou'lt hark, swarth murderess - the Devil,. Thine feral grith with me, Poppaea, be Hell's hap:.