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the lower class - the sound in the soul lyrics

[verse 1: imag*nius]
the distant thunder clap, a feeling so anxious
the past of my mother’s voice say i can’t play this
it was intriguing, all they did was tease me
pulling me like gravity to where all the g’s be
hip hop circles, pens, pencils hittin’ table
a shadow in the back feeling willing and able
believe me they acted like they didn’t f-ckin’ see me
but soon i’ll be wearin’ shades actin’ like stevie
i made the rumble right but the feeling still missing
emulation never left room for my own creation
no luck i was stuck in a rut then i listened
my house vibratin’ from the swisha i was spinnin’
and the sound still ringing in the present
the thunder not as distant but up close it’s still pleasant
now til the day when i’m sittin’ in the grave
i’ll feel the earth quake, leave ’em shaking in the heavens

[hook: the lower cl-ss]
just wanted to grow
towards the idols that we know
cause the sound is in the soul singing
(i can’t get enough)
so we chillin’ on the low
and we bout ready to blow
as we roll up to the show hearing
(i can’t get enough)

[verse 2: kartune]
homemade tapes stay revolving on c-ssettes played
had the kid ‘n play taper cutting up on sat-rday
too hype to stay in one place like flava flav in 88
the military brat of my culdesac
held back feelings for lack of dad led to pressures in my head
so the needle scratching wax gave me spinal tap
i grew spine in fact imitated my favorite tracks
mapped plans to make my mom prouder than fam of kyla pratt
that’s why i want to rap opposite emcees
who repeat empty meanings about dames chains and currency
lame sh-t was boring me to sleep
dreamed of being crowned by legendary kings of where stalagmites be
i’m the seedling of cds labeled cl-ssics
bred to p-ss their word to m-sses while relaying the past tense
been tense worried that i’d never be sh-t
but failure is not an option on apollo’s sp-ceship b-tch

[hook]

[verse 3: pliny science]
of these lights can you see me lord? i can’t afford
a pearl to add on to this gate my fate is to the sword
or the pen as i begin to write my leaving score
i press the feeling of the fallen to unbreathing hordes
whose stained arms with ink drip to represent
their royal status in the streets, no bowing to your excellence
with cruel intent to cast the ones unfit and heaven-sent
the moment that i knew if i’s to rise i’d have to wreck this sh-t so
should i follow the roots of music to the east side
a prehistoric prime of west’s best in jur-ssic 5
lest i think west like the rest when i feel chi
or stay at ground zero in the south to slow my state of mind
i’ll pack the samsonite and consider myself a nomad
and leave these ranks to show that, i’m making my name with my own brand
to all of the people that told me i shouldn’t have gone rap, kiss my gonads
i’m hoping you’ll see my name in the lights cause i can’t get enough and won’t go back (peace)

[hook]

- the lower class lyrics

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