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As The World Keeps Turning Lyrics

from The Aftermath

"As The World Keeps Turning" is track #3 on the album The Aftermath. It was written by Taylor, Christopher Glove/moret, Harold Peter/turner, Lashawn Lamont/lynn, Michael.
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"As The World Keeps Turning" is track #3 on the album The Aftermath. It was written by Taylor, Christopher Glove/moret, Harold Peter/turner, Lashawn Lamont/lynn, Michael.
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As the world keeps turning, chronic keeps burning
Street sermon, these niggas are determined
As the world keeps turning, chronic keeps burning
Street sermon, these niggas are determined

I flow like CD's in the deck
Moosh fools in the face that lack respect
Protect ya arm, pitch from the funk
I deodirise the musty, ya rhymes are crusty, you can't bust G

So leave me alone I'm in the zone
Walkin' the streets on my own, nigga get blown
Some niggas say that nigga Where is gone
But I'm low in the cut and gotta microphone
Are you gone bust or play bones?

You motherfuckin' clone, get off that nigga's style and get'cha own
It's Miscellanea and it's on again
For the niggas that slept, they shoulda stayed in step
And kept ya big fuckin' mouth shut

As the world keeps turning, chronic keeps burning
Street sermon, these niggas are determined
As the world keeps turning, chronic keeps burning
Street sermon, these niggas are determined

I woke up with a stomach ache, headache, back ache
Advil, Tylenol, Peptol, slept so long realized my world is wrong
My world is gone like disco, blowin' up Cisco in my Cammo
Standin' in back of me was my soul

Thinking of the easiest way to get a bank roll
Knowledge is urban-able, exhaust manifold
A tar can of hos to lubricate my system quick
Shaky bitches off the dick

'Cos she got a vice grip on the flow from my lips
I'm slow but equipped with the proper tools
Show me the one talkin' shit so I can drop a fool
I'm out to glow a nigga roll if he think he Mr Cream

Come back on the scene and smoke a Phillie, G
I really dream of gettin' mine now let me tell you what's silly
Me, buckin' with my team is murder one
I heard a gun bustin' shots, down the block

I guess a nigga gettin' what he got
Shit is heavy like a medicine ball and broke niggas to smoke niggas
I'll fuck one for y'all, they made ya last phone call
To a trick that didn't even care

'Cos she was gettin fucked somewhere, you're stuck in there
Now you wanna bust, nigga, now you wanna kill, nigga
Nigga how ya feel? You can't try to be real
Shit is for real

As the world keeps turning, chronic keeps burning
Street sermon, these niggas are determined
As the world keeps turning, chronic keeps burning
Street sermon, these niggas are determined

As the world keeps turning, chronic keeps burning
Street sermon, these niggas are determined
As the world keeps turning, chronic keeps burning
Street sermon, these niggas are determined

I'm cooler than most, but I got the shorter temper
And I'm cooler than foes that don't know how it goes
Let's take it back to the first side
When you was a new jack and jockin' my new track

But you was wrong, didn't know about the big long
Head-strong, nicknamed Dav from off the school yard
With a teenage group I'm turnin' loots to tracks
Me and my niggas like

You wanna know what the hos used to do
When me and my crew came bustin' through
All sorts of blushin's brew
Underground till my brown eyed balls turned blue

This is for the bitches and niggas that wanna front
I smoke on, I broke on till I spoke on
Miscellanea packin' shows like Farrakhan
Where is on another level with two niggas that's on the same plateau

Now that's three times your tightest flow
And three times ya tightest track
Three times your fattest sack
Three times is clever

As the world keeps turning, chronic keeps burning
Street sermon, these niggas are determined
As the world keeps turning, chronic keeps burning
Street sermon, these niggas are determined

As the world keeps turning, chronic keeps burning
Street sermon, these niggas are determined
As the world keeps turning, chronic keeps burning
Street sermon, these niggas are determined

Thou shalt rest in grief who lay buried in the belt
Barely included work, leaves bodies scarred and hurt
To art in hell, where the next man dwells
The place with stankin' pussy and crack rock dwells

Songwriters
TAYLOR, CHRISTOPHER GLOVE/MORET, HAROLD PETER/TURNER, LASHAWN LAMONT/LYNN, MICHAEL

Published by
Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.

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