a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

letra de spoken word, word - chef chainey

[verse 1: chef chainey]

said i’m a real life lyricist, wack cats fearing this
as, soon as they hearing this they leave their pants stained with p-ss
i’m a, little crazy, mind is spinning like them datons in the 80s when they swerved in cadillacs & not mercedes
i’m trapped alone, it’s just me & my thoughts
i’m puffing buddha & i hope it never takes me to court
they show, no remorse like they ain’t got any flaws
especially when you’re a black man that got a voice
i’m juggling choice, should i hang out with my boys
or see my lady, it’s her birthday & i think she’d probably hate me
it’s crazy that it doesn’t faze me
cuz in her face i’m always calling her my only baby
but i’m a mess though
feeling kinda schizo
seeing life from two angles
i could be a stereotypical bo jangles
have the faces of these racists all smiling
but then again who gives a f-ck n-ggah i’m just doing me

[hook: chef chainey]

[verse 2: chef chainey]

meditating under pyramids, still searching for energy
they say we all equal i’m still searching for symmetry
subliminal imagery, having these subtle memories
i’m just making tracks hoping these people are feeling me
readily, waiting to steadily make people remember me
& if you do, just remember me as an ent-ty who spoke on beats
who spoke on times when it was hard to eat
who spoke of times in dimensions where we’d often meet
isn’t that so obsolete
feeling this beat i stomp my feet
i can’t recall anything from these frequencies
we speak just to see
if anyone can confirm the reality of our dreams & it seems
that i don’t give a f-ck
i’m just busting nuts
f-ck the consequences of living it up man i’ve just had enough
& my mind is imprisoned i’m filled contradictions & my rhymes are encrypted now tell me
would you care to listen?

[hook: chef chainey]

[verse 3: chef chainey]

midnight popo slamming on my neighbours door
& i know he always likes to say f-ck the law
& it’s a shame that i won’t to see him anymore
they gave him life, sentencing was pure strife
but what’s new
f-ck the fact it wasn’t true, he ain’t got a good lawyer
imagine someone wanting your help but they can’t afford ya
like you some kinda high priced slave
but who gives a f-ck if you get paid at the end of the day
& that’s the same line a murderer say
but if you work in a suit then i guess it’s okay
so get your cake move away
f-ck debates, let em hate
if they want, let em stay
let em play these mundane mind games
we keep, doing the same, but still wishing for change
i guess that’s why they say, players change but the game stay the same
so now we switching blame who got the guap, got game
got the chain, got the range, now they’re insane & i’m the same

i said now they’re insane & i’m the same

- chef chainey

letras aleatórias

MAIS ACESSADOS