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letra de more heart - edgar wyndham

[verse 1: edgar wyndham]
nah, i wasn’t born in the ghetto at all
but been up to no good since knee high to a doll
spit fire and been meant to ball
so fresh that the smoke seems its menthol
i could moved minds without the drug talk
so tell your connect i telekinect off the top
now it’s all eyes on this gemini
so portmanteau flow new ages like aquemini
em and i agree, game hard to get in for whitey
it’s like writin’ left when you really is a righty
truth is i write the most complex of rhymes
so know who is dopest to mess with your mind
some spend they time just tryna get a dime
but i do this just cuz i love to grind
and a fine razor edge is just what i sharpen to
more sk!ll in mind and more heart than you

[verse 2: edgar wyndham]
yea ya might got appeal to the m-sses
but on the mic ya just can’t blast this
i’m m-ssive, one to outlast
most that trash that ya put up on blast
too many out here givin hip-hop a bad rap
got too many non-blacks thinkin it’s all about who you clap
shoot too many people up in your raps, k!ll this k!ll that
why ya wanna encourage the youth to do that
be like ding ding ding, knock you out my path
cuz my mouth sting when i rock the wrath
like your record got sat by boys that’s fat
cuz i crush grooves when i put it on wax
thugs in the back, actin’ wall flower
get off ya -ss, and quit actin’ so sour
real power don’t come from gettin gorilla
act silverback and the heart attack gonna k!ll ya

[verse 3: edgar wyndham]
equal part nerdy and part evil wild
ain’t heard me too many mc’s with heart in a while
for real childs, make grown man music
still wild but got no known plan to prove it
my circ-mstance was a crazy confluence
under the influence, an a never lazy druid
i’m a stupid dude when i drink white russians
but it’s sumethin’ how i grab the mic and start crushin
stop fussin, value discretion, loathe self pity
so lose direction when tryna flow wit me
so get off the d-ck g, ya been ridin too long
give someone else a chance to hop on
ya little lame morons leanin on liquid heron
fly high like a heron til every care is gone
while my ish so crisp it’s like perpetually ironed
while ya lyin’, wit tales far fetched about the iron

- edgar wyndham

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