Gym Class Heroes - To Bob Ross With Love - Sözleri

Now who you know leave the scene messier than canvases by Jackson Pollock

Throwing multi-colored thoughts at a rapid pace?

I'll make a mess, you dissect it and make sense of it,

Then get back to me at your earliest convenience.

Check my verbal sequence as I texturize these tracks

Seven layers to be exact.

Eliminate the whack with a firm brush stroke.

I emcee paintily.

Lyricists begin crumbling from my scumbling technique

As I tweak your audio and visual

Keep my drips minimal, messages subliminal

'Cos me and rap go way back, we compliment

So together we enhance one another, that's common sense.

High intensity catches the eye, your jaw drops

Be a real critic, not explicit with false props.

I keep my darks deep, my lights bright.

I'm very thorough with my chiaroscuro inspiration spark and a knife

Now watch me rock the spot like Basquiat, minus the heroin

And make my face popular like Andy did to Marilyn.

It's kinda scary when real art gets left behind

While they take bullshit and start sellin it to blind folks

But I remain humble as long as Gray Squirrel continues spinnin hot shit

On his twin twelve-hundred color wheels of steel.

Fuck mass appeal.

Art is art only the real can truly feel it.

So open your eyes and listen.

Combine your ears with vision.

Or do it cause you love it or for cash



That's your decision

That's your decision

That's your decision



It's like I'm torn between two worlds

A paintbrush and a microphone

A canvas or a beat

CD or LP

Anything goes when my ink pen flows

And God only knows where its gonna bring me next

So I'm inclined to like paint rhymes and spit kaleidoscopes with one eye closed

And I suppose if you chose the path that I chose.

You know the cycle asshole, don't front.

It goes inspiration and productivity then a sense of self-worth and in steps depression

Like back and forth and forth and back.

Should I paint a picture or record a track?

A gift or a curse? I don't know I'm still undecided

But over the years I've found clever ways to hide it.

And those that lack the passion I have may despise it,

But my momma made me this way. I thank her everyday.

So tell them kids to keep coloring outside the lines,

Until they lose they limitations and they minds is free.

Tell them teachers that you want your money back this time,

And tell Bob Ross for all the happy little trees.

And tell my momma that her baby boy is doing just fine,

Although he's running out of patience, but his mind is free.

And tell my pops that I'll pay his money back sometime

And that his son is two steps away from where he needs to be.


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