from curses to verses got some brothas in hearses an brothers that will snatch ur purses im a vistim to life the reaper almost caught me with the scythe
When you talk to the beat Keep your ear to the street Don’t be surprised if you get burned Putting your hand on the heat You best retreat, or accept defeat Get whipped up like a recipe Beaten mercilessly, it ain’t no referee To intervene, I’ll even haunt you in your dreams See if you really cut from a different cloth Start splitting you open at the seams I need paper by the reams More than I can stuff in my JNCO jeans I need the mic like a junkie fiends for the pipe Guess that means I need a hit, this shit is doper than life…
Unos lo toman a juego, pero esto no es comedia Hay que errores que el dinero, ni el tiempo los remedia Estoy dudoso de empezar, no quiero hacer nada a medias Reorganize mi vida, le di vida ala libreta Me olvide de mi mismo, deje atrás todas mis metas
Se oculta el "sol", vamos a hacer "la" ponme un beat hazme el "fa"... no estoy en "si" ,no sé qué me pasó a "mi" , fuck that shit !, no pienso en grammy... SImplones, nada escriben sin plones les daño sus planes, sin haber sido mis fines.. adoro la música, no las imágenes ni te imaginas por que eres de los que odia el lunes. desde el colegio no me gusto la materia todo el día sintiendo la energía recarga la batería, mientras yo me sintonizo con la batería alrededor veo flotar notas, entró en armonía
Tunnel vision my mission is to become rich ina few years no more fear on menu sorry demons yall got fat while my mind was away but now im back with a focus and further understanding on how this planet works a philosopher
Feeling sick Cah I ain’t got no water Smoked a spliff And now my throat feels like a slaughter I’m the goat, fuck what they taught ya And listen to wah I’m teaching Im soon gone the reach the top While these other bitches reaching Sleeping, I been a box And they been grieving Weeping, trees and fucks I’m always keeping Cah I couldn’t give a fuck If these people were deceased Or not, I’m on the block with a hundred gs With a honey pots, get stung by bees You get took off, you don’t believe That we got the rocket up inside our pocket Well then u jus gone see How we cop it See the cops and then I’m boppin On my way, I might be joggin Not very athletic Buh that shit won’t a problem When I jus get diabetic Taking shots nd Feeling rotten In a pot The plot gone thicken And they never listen To wah I’m fucking telling Belling yo girl all the time And I’m still out fucking shelling Maybe I might hit yo fuckin melon You melon In the station, with bacon, tellin All these statements on a felon I’m not waitin, they still fell nd Tried to make it, couldn’t tell he jus flew off inside that space ship Say farewell Ur boys in space bitch
We all got a plan we tryna reach for the stars, But you say the first rhyme that comes to ur head, and call it bars We need to hear a deeper level of thinking, Cos the number of good rappers keeps on shrinking
Mate I'm actually sitting here with the producer Jay Le Surgeon (Numskullz) who says that's all good with him.. check him out on Farcebook and send him your demo.. :)
I’m cold, my bones, are brittle, they snap, I crumble; literally, probably, falling down under; the rug, I was shoulder shrugged to, a couple months ago; Here I go? Complaining, and stating I got a issue I’m over staying my welcome, in this-game; I’m just here, to flame all of the lames, And nay sayers, Hey haters, I’m getting Phat paper, like bron on the lakers; I just can’t seem to shake em, But somehow, I still score, Scorched, is how I leave the track; No runnin it back, it’s Ashed; Can’t be to hell, origin in fact, Is this plane, we exist on, You lack, the knowledge to See, the problem, I’ll stop there:..:
