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letra de last chance - cyto.

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[intro]
(break it down) x4

[verse 1]
too many fiends more talented than me
but i’m, still that unique mess lookin’ for some mercy (break)
mercy me, marvin’s words echoin’ in my vault
this cog of the lot stands as a pillar of salt
and sand lands in the hands of the gods, (break) man himself
second coming? ha, man can only help himself
the products of mindless men of wealth
i’d rather hang from the gallows than see my words left stealthed
give ‘em h-ll, we’re the one true kings
but here we are fiendin’ every night for the green
supply your needs, uh-huh, c’est la vie
not a single soul obscene, but man, “this scene accepts me”
(the f-ck?) accept yourself, (break)
from a cry for attention to some self-led help
got dreams i can tell, no one else feels
but the fakes do flee when this sh-t turns real

[hook]
yea, yea, i say the fakes do flee when this sh-t turns real
yea, yea, yea, yea, fakes do flee when this sh-t turns real
yea, yea, i say the fakes do flee when this sh-t turns real
yea, yea, yea… and that sh-t’s turnin’ real

[verse 2]
well, hail your support, my friends stay my crutch
and i, sent off the old ones who can never stay in touch
but, when this soulful man plots his master plan
i’ll either fall face first or finna land on my bl–dy hands
man, i’m my own last chance
nah, pop the bottle, nah, kick some cans
ameri-can – dreams, either death or demand
white wings on desert sands flyin’ over taliban

[chorus]
no fans, no fam, no chance, (uh-huh)
no jay’s, no chains, no rants (uh-huh)
no worries, no time, (break) new stance
no semblance so presenting our new chant
death, death, death or demand x3
man, i’m my own last chance

[hook]
yea, yea, i say the fakes do flee when this sh-t turns real
yea, yea, yea, yea, fakes do flee when this sh-t turns real
yea, yea, i say the fakes do flee when this sh-t turns real
yea, yea, yea… and that sh-t’s turnin’ real

[verse 3]
deny dank dimes, pro-vide ranked rhymes
suf-fice some minds who find the time
to cut and consider some wisdom of the wizards
who surp-ss the masters, raised these b-st-rds into misters
uh-huh, he now pullin’ for position
can you listen? the nay-says still pay me some attention (no break)
kitchen is his daw and out of sync comes the raw
thoughts of this young adult lost, last level, final boss
(aye!) southside, (aye!) southside
where those men supply highs off 9-5s
where some brew is the backbone to life
yea, where ye’s new slaves came to die
my time, here was well spent
livin’ in the beats, unholy but heaven-sent
livin’ for the dreams, before this, h-ll-bent
livin’ for the sh-t those teachers been promisin’

[chorus]
no fans, no fam, no chance
no jay’s, no chains, no rants
no worries, no time, (break) new stance
no semblance so presenting our new chant
death, death, death or demand x3
man, i’m my own last chance

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