Life is just a beat to me, I'm just tryna spit to,
15+ years without seein my shit move/
So I'm 'bout to hit you, with so many lines that at times it might seem like just too many rhymes to sit thru/
Spit hop plus I'm hip too.
Rhyme razors that will slit thru, muscles tendons and tissues,(use use use)/
Went from rockin open mics, writin rhymes and overnights, voices in my head keep saying to me "make sure you flow it right"/
coach keeps kickin stuff to write, karma's got me lovin life, my mother just keeps praying for meeee/
See I got demons in my past and a rack of fukcin kids, so I gotta handle biz to keep em dipped in Yankee lids/
Plus kicks and hoods as well, lovin gifts from uncle shiz, teachin em the Way so they know exactly how it is/
So when I'm no longer here to pay for fades and lace their feets, give them all the rhymes I wrote and some shiny new beats. (beats)....
2 comments:
Life is just a dream to me
And i aint gonna let it pass me by
the next 30 odd years kinda contemplating straight staying high
So Im about that good shit
20 bags for weekdays otherwise an 8 piece for that never quit
hours to contemplate why we here
and dream of summertime sitting in that beach chair...chair...chair
Went from walking Brooklyn blocks
To buildings where they pushing stocks
here my angels sing to me....Are you holding shiz?
I just hope I gots enough
These days the crew puffin huffin tough
Guy be like...."Are you calling again?"
See I got baggies in my pocket
but the stash is at the crib
If the night keeps on like this
that secret stash will never live
For the night is young but the winter never colder
Damn these late nights make me wonder when Im older
Will it still be be the grind stacking paper outta fear
will it still be the concrete streets and no days without a care
more likely than all that
I be feet in the sand lean'd back in that beach chair...chair..chair
You killed that son. See I got baggies in my pocket but the stash is at the crib...
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