awon - melancholy funk lyrics
awon
soulapowa
for the mind though
you know
melancholy funk for your soul
bounce
ah ha, yeah, let’s go
[verse 1]
i shed too many tears
i lost too any peers
lost too many brothers
all too many years
a lot of slow walking
a lot of sad singing
y’all talk about it
i still hear the shots ringing
see all through american, inner+city streets
there’s more terrorism here than in the middle east
that’s why i’m the beast, the beast of no nation
young, black, intelligent with street education
y’all got me f+cked up, taking kindness for weakness
but all these elitists think we are defeated
getting too blind to see it, it is what it is
so be it
so don’t come out your mouth with no street sh+t
y’all stand for nothing but fall for anything
i don’t need n0body to tell me i’m a king
i validate myself i was cut from the cloth
hold the keys to my own door
homie i’m a boss
[chorus]
you don’t understand this darkness
pull up a chair, twist up a gram and spark it
i got a story to tell
the melancholy funk that’s a warrior’s tale
from the belly of the beast
where the streets have a hold on your soul like a leash
capeesh, funky like tuna fish grease
pray to the east, wash my hands then i feast
[verse 2]
you got me f+cked up now, i was really born a gangster
in the crack house, i was groomed to get the paper
grabbed my first tone when i was five years old
robbed at six for my chain i was grown
a product of the streets, a prisoner of war
’cause my grandfather used to serve raw at the door
no one in the world could tell me we were poor
but deep inside my heart, i knew we deserved more
more for my people, more for my hood
just to get by the fam was up to no good
so f+ck these jobs, f+ck clocking in
slave no more, b+tch, i deserve to win
i repent for my sins
with a pint full of hen
and a blunt full of loud that’s on my dead friends
you got me f+cked up because the place where i begin
is the place where you will end
i’m too honest to pretend
uh
[chorus]
you don’t understand this darkness
pull up a chair, twist up a gram and spark it
i got a story to tell
the melancholy funk that’s a warrior’s tale
from the belly of the beast
where the streets have a hold on your soul like a leash
capeesh, funky like tuna fish grease
pray to the east, wash my hands then i feast
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