Exile cuts:
So amazin'....
Common: From the-, From the soul y'all

Yo, the soul provider
got a lot on the skillet
grillin' it hard boiled, charcoal fillin'
the dark villain and the light skinned niggas disguised.
My mind's sickening,
define vicious written in rhymes times tens
To describe how my line's ending
Your fine imprint,
described through your mind's index
My line chin-checks and shine through your blinds, instant
The sun syndicate
'Fat' as 'Biggie' with no 'Pun' intended
(No pun intended to live)
I pick up where we slid and run illest
'til I buckle and become winded,
And all the air from out my lungs slips into the sky
like weed smoke
My peoples need hope, and I'm the one with it
The Soul Provider: Cold as fire, hot as ice
Rock the mic 'til I retire; die, the son of Christ
Becoming one with life, to live like death is uncertain.
One curtain left and I'ma die with my gun burstin'
Son cursing 'til I must become one with the Earth.
Heaven and hell I conquer, which ever comes first.
Known to rebel, my soul a la mode
(uh, say it again) my soul a la mode (a la mode)
The Soul Provida...

Exile Cuts:
I- I'm a hit you with the words that'll make ya soul vibe
It- It's so amazin' and still blazin'/ From the soul y'all
I- I'm a hit you with the words that'll make ya soul vibe
Cause I know, know- I got that- I got that soul...

Sacred living.
Sinning like you can't forgive him.
Suspending time with my time spent rhyming about nonsense,
like saving religion
Drink sippin', letting my mind spin.
Thinking about my mom and pops, how they designed this nigga
Mix of Al Green and 'Pac
Rock the soul tracks rapping about surviving on the block
Black top, Asphalt talk
walking through the fire like a soul provida
Poppa made a dope rhymer
I'm a ghetto nigga sipping liquor in pajamas
Not old enough to rock clubs, but still do
Will soul provide
I gotta ill crew...(yes)
And best believe they with me in the city like sex
Metropolitan connects, plus the Steel crew still do dirt
Baggy jeans and my ill blue shirt
Feeling fresh, yes.
While Ex' queue the keys
I'ma ease through your soul like you're blowing trees.
Best believe the soul provida

(Chorus)

Verse 3:
Yo, I flow krypton
knock your superman off his feet with his kicks on.
Niggas keep my shit on repeat.
And no matter which song I get on,
I shit on beats, pull out my dick and take a piss on trees,
I'm raw dogging it, look.
My rhyme lines flow sweeter than swine,
so any mic that I find, I got the right to be hogging it.
Talking shit, loud mouth, wilding out starting it.
Alcoholic slaughtering my vocab department.
So pardon if my talking is slurred.
Pants sagging, hands grabbing on my nuts
clutch sparking my herb.
Relaxed lingo, Beef low, ghetto as black bingo.
Redefine the the line of rap singles.
The soul provida' hold the mic and open fire.
Drop my nuts, I give a fuck about a pro hire.
The new Pete and C.L. was Exile and B-L.
We bang jeeps to break beats, blaze trees and females.
You ain't me.
Its the S-0, U-L pro-vide your mind
with a west coast soul vibe.
Uh, its the S-O, U-L pro-vide your mind
with a west coast soul vibe.
Yeah, the soul provida'



Lyrics submitted by convince

So(ul) Amazin' (Steel Blazin') song meanings
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