Caskey – An Artist’s Artist Lyrics

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Lyrics An Artist’s Artist – Caskey

Yeah, somebody told me that I’m an artist’s artist
Took that as a compliment, yeah

Black Sheep 1 still makin’ me a streamin’ check
I got fourteen other albums, plus the merch
Plus the shows, I ain’t even tryna flex
Dog, just get the arena set
That way when I come to do my service, it’s Serena set
Me up at my peak, y’all ain’t seen it yet
Barely gettin’ started
All the million plays on yo’ songs
Don’t even count because you bought it

Labels droppin’ checks to make a artist
This is just the outcome of when you real and work the hardest
I’m a Big Tymer, shout out to my old label
Had to leave a made man, learn to set my own table
This a upgrade, cellphones out of phone cables
Independent just the way to go
And I’m trained to go, victory just make ’em hate it mo’
I’ve been hated since I started, guess that’s what they pay me fo’
Black sheep in a black-on-black candy-painted Rolls
From the new school, but I ain’t paintin’ toes, lil b**ch

Heh, yeah, yeah
Black sheep, you know what it is

This gon’ be one of them songs that ain’t got a hook
But it make ’em spend they pocketbook
From the O-town, where I grew up ’round a lotta crooks
S**t, my dad sold enough c0caine to make him shook
And my big sis had enough ‘scripts to write a book
I ain’t impressed with these rappers now and how they look
Tryna buy an image, go into that studio and cook
I’m a workaholic, I don’t need a studio to book
S**t, I put one in my crib, everything I want, I took

Everything I wanted, made it happen, went and threw a summit
Taught these other independent artists how to make some money
Spittin’ game ’cause I learned the game, nobody put me on it
Rappers act like they got love for they people but they front
And I just show and prove, to break the rules, gotta know the rules
Get this novice out the crib, put the Pro in Tools
It’s ’bout time they give me flowers ’cause they overdue
They could say they don’t respect me, but I know they do

Yeah, y’all know y’all respect this s**t
The hustle, the bars
Give y’all a third verse

Stoppin’ at Ferrari dealerships, man, that’s what I call a pitstop
Radio don’t play my jam, but that song ain’t this hot
Got more followers than you got dollars ’cause you only lit on TikTok
Fourth quarter droppin’ so that I could cop a fifth spot
Money foldin’ in a big knot
Stamps on the passport, places you ain’t been, a lot
Stove’s off, keep a burner though, that’s just the way I live
Hunnid K on my interior, the front, a shot of Cribs, lil b**ch

This a different tax bracket, y’all could keep the backpackin’
Cyphers with your homie, lil homie, this ain’t that rappin’
Y’all was gettin’ honest, but it’s safe to say you back cappin’
Play me like a p**sy, I’ma have to leave you cat nappin’
Big dog in my city, answer calls like I’m Diddy
Put my balls on her titties while you stall
Walkin’ like I’m thirty feet tall
F**k a judge, I don’t even do the food court when I hit the mall

Nah, we don’t do the food court, man
But I do stop by lately and pick up
one of them lil free samples on my way to where I’m goin’
Y’all know what I’m talkin’ ’bout
Ayy man, I’m glad y’all enjoyed this lil journey we got y’all on, man
One time for my dog, that’s the black sheep
Yes, sir, Pimp

Call me, you ain’t there when I was lonely
You don’t care if I’m sorry, oh
‘Cause lately you’ve been callin’ me
And I don’t care if I fall for you again
‘Cause I need you
I need you, I’m sorry…

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