Golden Mondays #9

Posted: November 1, 2010 in Word
Tags: ,

Word…life.

Speaking in tongues, about what you did, but you never done it
Admit you bit it cause the next man gained platinum behind it
I find it ironic, so I researched and analyzed
Most write about stuff they fantasized.
I’m fed up with the bull, on this focus of weed and clips
And glocks getting cocked, and wax not being flipped
It’s the same old same old just strain it from the anal
The contact, is not complex or vexed
So why you pushing it? Why you lying for? I know where you live
I know your folks, you was a sucka as a kid
Your persona’s drama, that you acquired in high school in acting class
Your whole aura is plexi-glass
What’s-her-face told me you shot this kid last week in the park
That’s a lie, you was in church with your moms
See I know yo, slow your roll, give a good to go
Guys be lacking in this thing called rapping just for dough
Of course we gotta pay rent, so money connects, but uhh
I’d rather be broke and have a whole lot of respect.
It’s the principal of it, I get a rush when I bust
Some dope lines oral, that maybe somebody’ll quote
That’s what I consider real, in this field of music
Instead of putting brain cells to work, they abuse it
Non-conceptual, non-exceptional
Everybody’s either crime-related or sexual
I’m here to make a difference, besides all the riffing
The traps are not sticking, rappers stop flipping
For those who pose lyrical but really ain’t true I feel
Their time’s limited, hard rocks too

 

When I’m flowing with my girl I feel it the most
Beef coming so close like a champagne toast
On the train, in the city, down the way
Down her way, I take it upon myself and say niggas is gay

Speaking in tongues, about what you did, but you never done it
Admit you bit it cause the next man gained platinum behind it
I find it ironic, so I researched and analyzed
Most write about stuff they fantasized.
I’m fed up with the bull, on this focus of weed and clips
And glocks getting cocked, and wax not being flipped
It’s the same old same old just strain it from the anal
The contact, is not complex or vexed
So why you pushing it? Why you lying for? I know where you live
I know your folks, you was a sucka as a kid
Your persona’s drama, that you acquired in high school in acting class
Your whole aura is plexi-glass
What’s-her-face told me you shot this kid last week in the park
That’s a lie, you was in church with your moms
See I know yo, slow your roll, give a good to go
Guys be lacking in this thing called rapping just for dough
Of course we gotta pay rent, so money connects, but uhh
I’d rather be broke and have a whole lot of respect.
It’s the principal of it, I get a rush when I bust
Some dope lines oral, that maybe somebody’ll quote
That’s what I consider real, in this field of music
Instead of putting brain cells to work, they abuse it
Non-conceptual, non-exceptional
Everybody’s either crime-related or sexual
I’m here to make a difference, besides all the riffing
The traps are not sticking, rappers stop flipping
For those who pose lyrical but really ain’t true I feel
Their time’s limited, hard rocks too
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