The Artist

from baby bitch blues (remastered) by DOOF

	/

Buy the Full Digital Album

lyrics

Attention deficit, try and dig for the claps
Spitting shit but writing raps, write a song to tell the facts
Rooted in the boredom but it sprouted from the seeds
They focus on the art, but not the artist in the weeds
You can kill a hundred people, but I'm scaredest if you draw it
Cuz the motive for the artist ain’t your motive if you saw it
In one way or another we all hate the love and love the hate
Cuz loving selves is hate, you let the lies in, then you shut the gate
And modesty is great in quantities but bad in others
You hate yourself you hate your work and take away its color
I’ll never see the world through the eyes of my brother
But mine reveal a truth only the artist can discover
I lost my mind, I stopped the time a couple hundred weeks ago
The spiral feels so infinite, it’s spinning like its pizza dough
Throwing like I'm thrown like I'm Lisa Loeb
The artist feels dowsed in some cheap cologne
Maybe why he sleeps alone
Baby bitch blues, who’s the baby to you?
Find shame in the name that you hated to chose
To everyone I love I say I’m crazy in lieu of the truth
Only ever deal with the white foe dues
Faux like the new, phony like the clues
The artist thinks, but never knows, forgoes what he knew
The only thing you do is live and soak up the view
But then again, all my special things mean nothing to you