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letra de arthur - cibelles

history is written by the winners and i’m the author because i’m here
but how i was offered the chair of king arthur wasn’t clear
some argued it wasn’t fair that i moved forwards towards the thrown
while i remained too bored to pull the sword stored in the stone
i abhorred the metal blade and forged my own chrome forty caliber
that cat’s said wasn’t valid til they seen it shatter excalibur
i’m a maladjustee, that paved his way in the wake of broken dreams
to pull together the uncommon feather of outspoken teens
nose spoken through open entries for mentally centuries
so essentially, i lack credentials tracing back to elementary
i’m academically inept or scholastically impaired
but lyrically and intellectually get your -ss kicked it just isn’t fair
a tisket a tasket, a biscuit could put your b-tch in a basket
i’ll put a nail in the coffin for every st-tch in the casket
i’m itching to ask it; do you really put your whole in this?
because your whole flow’s got me pondering if your soul exists
selling soullessness to soulless individuals
until the totem poll’s top has stolen his residuals
performing rasta rituals, chalice in hand
discussing cl-ssic releases plus the malice of man
callused hands filled with number two splinters
trying to hustle through summer so i could slumber through winter
i was overenc-mbered then, now i’ve repaired and gotten much stronger
surp-ssed the last master faster and last longer
rocking a gas mask and a new era fitted
i refuse to be sh-tted on by fools who ain’t never did it
so stop trying to call plays from the sidelines
because you don’t know best dog, you just know susd guidelines
they said i couldn’t read the rule book so i decided i wrote my own
and i think they figured that out on the day that i broke my phone
i choking on my own spit, f-cked around and broke my own fist
sat in my bed and wrote a letter to my fam about how i’ma be homeless
but as much as i meant it i still never sent it, no one ever read it but me
but instead of shredded the letter was set and the head of my bed and you better believe
writing letters so words with cheddar so dirty, so get the security to get him in early
about seven-thirty, they met up he scurried but surely was back on the block with no worry
selling medicine, h-lla lettuce in my cigar box
cutting venison with felons and menacing hard knock
so far docks isn’t finishing or diminishing
what he writ is in evidence wit is in british citizens
i’m sn-tching snitches in quidditch and cracking quaffles
i got gwap from quaps at the opp and i’m packing car fulls
it’s awful that it’s unlawful but marvel at what i’ve done
seen twenty-five out of nothing just half way through year one
so i’m laughing to the bank with a trunk full of dank
hiding bills from my family like i’m ducking uncle hank

- cibelles

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