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letra de sun-father - h' & them

mental elevation,through conversation
i pace through the page
the dialogue’s more than basic
mentions of faces and names
couldn’t remember descriptions and all the names was the same
knowledge kept burning ; a sage
i knew a lot for my age

witness this burning heat, a day-star
when i dangle this chain of words as a day job
praise god
unguard and let’s play hard
great bards made the conversation
we spoke of prime relations, numbers too , the words kept coming cos the kind was racing

spoken word of this and that,his and hers, binary, and the gifted curse
the yin and yan,and the he-rs-, we spoke of life too
i wrote a haiku
no cutting corners when we slice through
you might just find food for thought
in corners where the knights move

the kings ain’t the only ones eating
we eating too, a golden circle of fools
the who’s
the ‘unknown by the clueless’
the reckless secluded and used as a tool

i let my fingers press the points from the pen
the tension stemmed from the friends
i lit a joint and wrote this again
i let my things depress the coins from the cash machine
i go against chast-ty
my groins kicking

the allegory was written by …. nah, still haven’t figured
the art is blissful and bigger, since odds were stacked by the children
bars set by the little ones
i’m here to dismantle this all
i’m repping the art
not what you reppin my dawg

[skit]

[verse 2]

pinky rings on kinky kings kicking the bucket, popping pills and cutting back on the budget
the whole kingdom loves it
f-ck it
they get some peasant hoes, f-ck em, put them in some shower robes and get rid of their luggage
got bags of cash and bags under they eyes, backpackin was a gag
why see the world when you got gold and the skies
stargazing, imagining the world outside while getting their d-ck vacuum-sucked dry by concubines
the alchemists working with alkalines
tryina turn water to wine,the drunkness led to gold
funk was what the fat lady spoke of
tales of old when fires went cold
and
queens missing, the prophets lowkey sneak-dissing
pots of gold p-ssin
“ching-chingle” when they jingle their keychains to the hoes with noses ringing
call them out and watch them glow and glisten

listen

- h them

letras aleatórias

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