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letra de real names be proof - affinity drive

“just be yourself” is my straight-faced strict motto
thus i make plain no stage name
i’m just nick rocco
with the fl!ck of the wrist i jot notes as sl!ck as i hit potholes
let’s switch quick ‘n’ change pace to dip in a ditch not oft known
i’m a white witless witness who wishes to spit hot flows!
what a cringe shock though – at least my chick thought so
i probably should of stuck to the strings
which brings up a couple of things
like yes, these ain’t kingdom melodies
but fine rhymes and sweet beats don’t mean i’m gonna sing some felonies
yet they don’t shrink from telling me
how rap ain’t clever but crummy
and i get it, how could this ever not be funny?
least i never wanted money
’cause babe, we ain’t seeing a cent
between eating and rent my knees will be bent with a need to repent
’cause if i speak to a friend and say i know guitar
they say “play me a song!”
you claim you rap
they say, “hey, your brain is gone”
so to cold and old crickets who don’t like rap
behold: y’all’re acquitted
we don’t bite back at critics
but might ask your soul:
can i kick it?
i write drafts of intricate physics that define the delicate cycle i pride to ride
and listen, if i wish to spit like a sl!ck whiz kid
ripping sick kick-flips with riffs that hit quick like an elegant elephant rifle
who cares?
it all felt a bit trifle
i die inside like i tried cyanide when fellas get spiteful with rude glares
but hold up – who just stepped in the place?
writing rhymes like this kind without a second to waste?
ripping the mic
liftin’ the night
spitting despite not paid stacks
straight facts
laidback, living the life
flavor of a spice rack
cooler than an ice pack
it’s like that, so tell me where the mic’s at (where’s it at?)
sound is vibration
rap’s surrounding your nation
even the renowned haven has been found and taken
in silence we mourn the ones who lost the battles
shots rattled – dropped mantles got caught baffled
music is a war zone with torn homes, all fighting for bones
it’s why i write in morse code, in case the storm grows
i’m bored though
score goals just to earn my keep
thus words aren’t hurting me
the fire burned the trees for certainty
emergency!
your turn to see the affinity drive when engaged
with no venom or rage the pen and the page will set the stage…

yo
yo, yo, yo
wu-tang is for the children
as a youngin thugging was in the new slang i was building
of course i shed that once i got out the flytrap and caught the fire
but a bit before, i said that crime raps are not my desire
how many classic pop songs are about makin’ love?
how many songs by the beatles are about takin’ drugs?
every genre is packed with the things our god hates!
whether rock, pop, punk, funk, a blues groove or broadway
so do we give up since every genre has toxic fungus?
no, of course not, you got to let the conscience be the compass
but it’s bupkis to lump this whole genre as the devil’s music
give me some minutes and maybe you’ll get used to it
or table the choice and label it noise
but this is bob dylan to me
so you got to stop k!llin’ the awesome feelin’ we see
in paradise i’ll meet eyedea, doom, phife and guru
with no worldly influences we can write some new tunes
i’ll learn to play the guitar again
take part in art with friends
then brave hearts will make scars mend
but that’s hard when we ain’t there yet
so before despair sets i glare ahead with my semi-suitable two eyes
to view the beautiful blue sky
a vivid way to remind me what a fine life we’re living
we see signs, shine light, read lines of divine might
remember: one crown won from the roman lashes
the contender’s come ’round but found no hope in badges
we stroll the longest road and have broken binding ties
we hold the strongest code and say “nope” to blinding lies
it’s the sign of the times
and the shine in the prize in the eyes and the mind
that the blind will never find
with a soldier’s composure we fight for jehovah
praying fervently because the nights almost over
the words don’t fit the pictures and make the frames burst
it’s the way the flame works – make sure you aim first
least that’s what i was told was gold
i like to write metaphors
and typically they just meddle more than they settle scores
time slipped
i’ve gripped so tight this pitchfork i got sore thumbs
and in this war i’ll never have what i wished for
but i found more crumbs
and in this gameshow my name ain’t known
but i scored love
i lay low makin’ shapes in playdough to form war drums to warn one
never had the blue blood and live by the will of scripture
but i’m spitting ’til my lips hurt just to k!ll a hipster
i love hip hop
now how romantic is that?
the broken antics of rap
perhaps what i lack is made up by fast attacks on the wax?
how many words rhyme with “love”?
they all seem forced
how long ’till my time is done?
i struggle to keep course
follow the leader on the racetrack
find the needle in a haystack
we break backs and pay tax ’til the episode fades to black
ever since my birth ’till the day that the kingdom reigns
i wonder where that flood is, hey, bring the rain!
“another verse?”
“how long will this song last?”
“you tryin’ to do an original psalm for the broadcast?”
get off that, you wombat!
i feel no shame for the truth
i’m tryin’ to preach on beats and heal pain from my youth
’cause you can’t, you won’t, you don’t stop
’till we prove that evil came to lose and if people blame the tunes
we’ll change the groove ’till we get those steel chains removed
real names be proof
what!?

- affinity drive

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