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hazeus tha damaja - salad days (prod. masta ace) lyrics

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salad days (prod. masta ace) lyrics
intro
man there was this book i just read on the bu+
well you know it was my dream so i guess i wrote it or something but uh
man it was bizarre it was like um
the premise for this whole book
was that
every thought you have creates it’s own reality you know
it’s like every choice or decision you make
the thing you choose not to do fractions off and becomes becomes it’s own reality you know just goes on from there forever i mean it’s like uhh….

[verse 1 + novel supreme]
im workin hard every night for my pain to die away
it keeps my mind straight so i can always levitate
my moneys kept in a place no sweat no trace
making me feel my rhymes need to be placed
i feel pressured over being measured with all the gestures
i’m always feelin like a hidden treasure
watch my rhymes take over
as i tip toe over
into some place like them salad days
then ill, go ahead and hypnotize my issues
as i vocalize and oxidize my tissues
by
fulfilling my dedication
live televised stations
with a big motivation
that can jeopardize a nation
my biblical lines are getting spilled
spiritual savior with the sk!lls
lyrically known for major k!lls
so tell me what’s your version
submerging in diversion
living estates of aversion
mental crackdown
like a pharaoh that’s a psycho
living like a maestro
master of the ghetto
weak minded emcees
who can’t even read
and not to be mean
but your flows never coming in clean
grasping money from some dummy
spend it all when you funky
respect to an extent
but what about my friend?
still short on the rent
f+ck it right
i guess we’ll just hustle hard by the night
[verse 2 + hazeus tha damaja]
since 5 double 2 one nine nine nine
hazeus to represent & keep it live one time
live at the world’s fair this the world premiere
walking with the walker wear through walkie talkie warfare
only breaking bread with the firmest of handshakes
still get respect for tracks me and my mans make
gamble chips off the shoulder till we get our plan straight
raised in the ghetto singing songs for survival
critical rhyme writing till my single’s on a vinyl
your sucker freestyle couldn’t f+ck with me child
i had it on lock but now i got it on smash
you can let them n+ggas know that i got it in the bag
i’ve been there i done that and i ain’t going back kid
slaved away in classes till my debt got redacted
middle class assets pay taxes while elites evade the bracket
man you can find me taking blast kid
the man has crash landed on your planet then expanded
master of the mic man the microphone bandit
from the motherland with the upper hand
capable to over stand the game needs more than fans yo
we coming up next jersey city needs respect
in these days of special effects
selling us s+x & flexing off they guess
we pay homage to these vets by dusting off cassettes
in your stereo set yo zeus’ll catch wreck
yo
spending time clocking commas n+gga you need a persona
not be dwelling with the drama claim the game is trynna harm ya
i be thinking about my father
who watches the roof over ma dukes man that’s how i got my roots



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