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letra de ghosts - distrik 22

[verse 1: leestorm]
kids blazing, kids waiting, for the most
you wanna be the goat but you terrified of ghost
got big dreams you setting up, but they don’t measure up
you tougher than leather, but are you tough enough?
way back when i thought everything was juicy
but now its 20 now and everything is kind of fruity
rap is diabetic, we in need of a medic, don’t mean to wax poetic
but emcees don’t get the credit, pathetic
everything is so mechanical, america tyrannical, i need a sabbatical
far from magical, cause the magic is gone
rappers emulate and imitate when they perform

[verse 2: shivum pande]
windows and doors, i stay inside, i’m scared
staying as far as i can be from where i see the room the asylums aired
steps either end up or maybe you may just find the square
maybe i’m all about the sound that just might incite one stair
okay, that end of the tunnel right there is just like brusque spread
through the sense of the smell of the dislikes, likes crust threads
eyes turn zed, the view is like a light unkept
the mystery is the hold that’s ever present and is divergent
it’s about the breath when the whispers drop to an end
and about the shots figuring out what those whispers ought to have meant
and how everything that’s heard is exactly like confluent trends
and how a day is just like every effort on the field off to an end
and the seconds brain was caught by that which thought bookended
they wish to be in thoughts even if it’s how the offshoot tenants
never really sure like the time when they move on to errands
joy’s in the smile of a mind that has not gone through legends
like a flight is the gleam in the eyes of an infant
off an instant, take out the life, in people’s eyes what they often intend
sole is the part where constantly all the options indent
taking time with what’s supposed to be done is softening sand
deeds can be summed up as a paw selling brand
with an office intact, plus pictures painting people popping pre-wrapped
somebody does whatever, is forever towards a promise in fact
the ones smiling don’t work towards if the gossip is apt
logic infracts though, every morning is just like the final throws
the walk we supposed to be taking forth is like a vinyl course
for the time we exist, we stay hidden behind these ciphered tones
it’s the knock on the door of the zone that lies alone
some be about crop-in the toppin’, some be about toppin’ the croppin’
is it always them who makes themselves run out of options?
can we even feel alive when everything looks how op-shuns-do?
well the reality is catching a flu

- distrik 22

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