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letra de pause - coulter cook

why can’t a kid just have a dream?
that doesn’t have to end with them packin’ heat?
that doesn’t have to end with a magazine?
that doesn’t have to end with a lack of sleep?
they’re all p-ssin’ me, i’m a blackened sheep
in the middle of the night, i’m attacking me
like a wack emcee, with a sad, empty
little hole of a heart, and took a bad aleve
like, ahh, it can never get worse
never get worse than a verse gettin’ murked
it’s a first, like i’m spittin’ from a he-rs-
i’m filling up the cemetery, ‘nother day at work
she’s filling up on ben & jerry, other ways to hurt
priests fillin’ up the seminary, other ways to burn
on the earth, there’s a surge of trying to find
or unwind the rhymes that blind eyes of wise
little itty-bitty, kind of shy
slidin’ by with the sh-tty-gritty nine-to-five
my kind of guy, with an inner-city kind of vibe
got it in me to incite a riot. my-my, oh why?
y’know, it’s all you can say, callin’ me ‘okay’, i see you all sneakin’ away
could be a teacher today, but what a weaker display of people seekin’ debate?
until it’s needless to say, i’ma keep sayin’ it
sprayin’ it, to the death of my persona
i promise to keep on it, sleep on it
t-bone it, i gotta’ weak sonnet
movin’ to see austin, shootin’ to see bonnets
i know it’s not what it seems, a long sixteen years of pausin’ a dream
head off the pillow, time to wake, i’ll try to find the way, ain’t no time to waste
pace off the b-ss, ’till i lay face down in the georgia clay, i got more to say
but it ain’t the day, still seein’ all y’all deface, and disintegrate the label name
lookin’ back tonight, could you p-ss the mic?
i’ma have to put it past ya’ with a half a pint
i’m the last in sight, want some bad advice?
go and try to be the best and you ain’t have to fight
you can all, give me the chance to put up the banners
and i can boot up the manners, who is the man, that gets the glory to help?
all the stories to tell, but for sure, he’s upheld, sore and he’s boring as h-ll..
some kind storyboard tale, but that’s like it
and that’s my que to introduce to you the way of the beat
where i be stayin’ a week, tryin’ to stay on my feet
my knees buckin’, underneath a hundred pounds of greed
the sun is down, indeed, my fun is sound asleep
but now it’s time to free, the powerhouse can breath, and i’ll salvage me

- coulter cook

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