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letra de dope springs eternal - last sons

[intro: uncommon nasa]
you hear that?
that means it’s your time to run
if you’re still at home
and you’re still wondering how to do this
your time has expired
you see, me and duke01 and furious p
we rock in each other’s cities
and we live an ocean apart
p-ssport homies, son
you don’t even know about that
that’s a dream sequence to you
you will never accomplish what we have
you can just listen to this beat
listen to this man rock!

[verse: duke01]
these picturesque stanzas are invisible colours bombing blank canvases with intricate wildstyle burners
fresh from the furnace, to brand beneath the surface of the epidermis, sonic third degree burns from fire verses
the poetic purpose of these paragraphs is beyond pure simple pyrotechnics, instead this is something to connect with
the grown man perspectives, devoid of the deceptive disease of the virally infected; disconnected
detached mode is the perpetual code, unload with pertinent prose where it’s only questions that are posed
ring the alarm for the comatose, remove the intravenous, put a tourniquet on the mainstream to starve the drip feeders
we’re looking for leaders but only finding followers of the soon to be anonymous slaves of the conglomerates
meanwhile, last sons are creating autonomous monuments that stand with prominence like they’re skyline dominant
we got uncommon beats in the monitors that are ominous we got p all over the tables like unhygienic restaurants
we got audio ordinance we got articulated arson, we got a distinct style of talking like the cadence of christopher walken
flash gordon, dive my hawkmen. i came up in the days when mixtapes were c-ssettes that were played on walkmen
pre-digital when we used to queue for imported physicals at the independent spots when delivery day was critical
once again back is that formidable doom bap format live from the last sons citadel
silence the cynical with this authentic original, proto-typical, that’s pumped straight through the ventricle
these are chronicles from the sentinel, take a journey through a journal to a place where dope springs eternal
and internals are external like the brains of cobain, so you can see what’s on my mind without the need for the gun spray
read from the twelve gauge page where even the ricochets are deadly hitting their mark with calculated trajectories
dome piece the point of entry leaving no exit wounds or crime scenes, live fire from chekhov’s gun? bam bam have a nice dream

[outro: uncommon nasa]
dope springs eternal
you hear that?
you hear them cuts?
you hear furious p getting down?
so you dream within a dream within a dream
don’t let anybody tell you different
what you listenin’ to is unique
the one and only
last sons
uncommon nasa
what up

- last sons

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