rali - tha message, part i lyrics
as i choke on my flows i try to reach for the skies
i’m touching my toes… i’m so confused
in this industry full of lames
who claim to pay their dues
it’s only just a few that really do
see, you don’t really have a clue
what it takes to make it here do you?
blood spill in the streets, kids banging ‘soo-woo’
so the top of the food chain is young black males
with tattoos, tools, gunshot wounds and crack rock scales
glamorizing the real…
i guess ain’t nothing wrong with that
’till a mother see her son open-lunged
little brother only seven, why he gotta tote a gun?
we surviving, but you think this sh-t is fun?
n-gga please…
you just a body made of ignorance
so your blood runs cold enough to chill a fish on a grill
heart made of stone;
miners couldn’t drill through your veins made of pain and your skin made of sin
so when income comes, then the end comes
we begin at the the top of the mountain
my brothers climb
my head on my shoulders backwards
i run my race from behind
i guess that’s why i’m behind;
chatting with father time
but disowned by mother nature
so f-ck her — don’t need no savior
i can’t even tell the difference
specifically, from the women who’ve been with me
to the critics who fill my vision with anger
it’s lividly on my brain so
i’m just trying not to make a mess when i spill my soul on my paper
feeling of hate, no love lost though…
my heart is a lock; don’t want to break it
and even thought it’s seizing my soul, i don’t want to shake it
i’m motivated my anger, cause i don’t want to waste it
i’m cultivated by changes… dominated by -n-s
i’m devastated by pain but i’m radiated by danger
educated by labor and elevated through haters
i’m aggravated by satan, somebody’s testing patience…
it must be these n-ggas acting like b-tches, it must be
that’s why i keep it real, so n-ggas can trust me
n-ggas throwing up my name, all they do is discuss me
so i throw up on beats, cause n-ggas disgust me
screaming, f-ck me? f-ck i? f-ck you n-gga!
i keep it realer than all of you booty loose n-ggas!
they just mad cause the flow hotter than goose mittens
they just mad cause the flow hotter than soup kitchens
stool pigeons, two centers; put your two cents in
the way you talk — stupid, it’s like your tooth’s missing
you fake g’s play macho
i’m headed for the top floor n-gga
so don’t worry about what i know
my hometown: southside chicago n-gga
what’s up?
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