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letra de mold / colours - hector vaé

[hook / intro]

what are you doing man
what are you doing with yourself
what are you doing man
what are you doing with your health (x2)

[verse 1]

see this philosophy, the scattered brains of socrates
like kennedy’s last thought speaking in terminology
i’m all but a prophecy, written out unconsciously
of lost logic caught in the plot of a rotten urban teen

with colored visions and images in this marijuana
smoking with the homies till i even f-cking barely wanna
like raise the potency, hopefully it’ll work for me
cause this rap-sh-t certainties got me caught in an urgency
to fit these words perfectly
herbally circling till my iris is burgundy
universally verses are turning into eternity, especially if you versing me
you probably lack capacity of understanding laxity
overseeing your rapping and never learning these sk!lls
got these rap actors after me from here to the galaxy
chill and k!lling it casually, coloured patterns diagonally
on my hands, when i’m actually thinking about sh-t frantically, like;

will i make a hit in a year?
does a bear sh-t in the woods, does a rabbit see fear?
will i have a career, and make this money appear
while i’m high and up here, with my higher a peers?

[hook]

what are you doing man
what are you doing with yourself
what are you doing man
what are you doing with your health (x2)

[verse 2]

like come and follow to sleepy hollow with halogens
eating away our outer skin, hiding out in the outer rim
sour flowers are chowdered, in minutes hours devoured
with visits of downers drowning out
dozing off, closing routes just to find this inner sound
getting louder like hear me out

as i’m eating this food, with bleach in its hue
with speech in a tool, reading to whoevers and fools
keeping it cool, drooled, looming over something to prove
show and then poof, its all over like my mind in the booth
and all blinded but the truth is all caught in my youth
like sit and watch and talk movies bout these uzis in schools
it’s so common, so rotten like the web that we weave
smoke often, blow cotton, say it’s better to breathe
why my flows gotten a whole lot better than ever believed
i never the had the chance to express these thoughts that i see
like please gimme this minute, all while i’m trying to give it, and give it up…
i don’t see colours; i just see rhythm
and i don’t see living good without these written
sitting and keep spitting till my shoes clean and new
green and blue reason why you lost between me and you

pale teachings with ale drinking i’m sailing now
stale thinking with trails fading to sit in clouds
to write up what i’m living out, cause this is really it for me
slap to the beat k!ll a track, it’s the black symphony;

playing for no audience, strapped with the scoped dominant flow trapping the obvious, over breath or a consonant
get it, check it, jock it quick, sit, let it marinate
that marinara letter play with cerebellum sentencing
synthesized synonyms synchronized in a pendulum
over time with the penmanship
i’ve drawn up my pinnacle looking high for the rest of me
wait for the drip till it hit, split the stick quick and its history
kick for kick imma lay it down, like aks spraying rounds
great is found underneath the f-cking ground, hitting pads
running bound to the mpc that found a poet dead
writing to some missing crowd, looking, thinking, wondering how does he wanna make it good or not…

[hook / outro]

what are you doing man
what are you doing with yourself
what are you doing man
what are you doing with your health (x2)

- hector vae

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