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letra de island life - pat battle

[richard pryor]
police got a choke hold out here man. they choke n-ggas to death. that mean you be dead when they through. did you know that?

[verse 1]
the bacon in blue is a bad master
step forward, get blast backward
my trap be flappin’ like a mad pastor
i don’t preach, i just rap b-st-rd
say my peace – we seek more
who are we? we the meek and poor
yeah of all colors, brothers we deplore
when the rhymes are weak and the beat’s a bore
i deliver the dinner like i’m a pizza boy
servin’ suckas my slice of life
no hype, no lights
my mother f-ckin’ vice? the mic
wanna roll dice tonight?
i bet i’ll beat you in this battle of wits
i’ll plead the first, you can handle the fifth
when dat goes piff, my candle is lit
the wick goes quick – i spit dope sh-t
i get no hits on the buzz meter
no hits on the pop charts cuz, neither
my pieces reachin’ these leechin’ leaders
breachin’ t–th, now their speech is weaker
sock it to you like shaka zulu
hip hop – it ought to be shockin to you
f-ck the police – schools too
who said “shut up fool when i’m talking to you”
can’t mute this dude, he’s supa dupa
f-ck pouncin i’m stompin koopa
yo mind’s benign, and i’m poppin tumors
malignant, to h-ll with the hallelujahs
goofy newbies pick easy topics
to flaunt their secrets like leaky faucets
tauntin’ wallets, and bank and stuff
but hold up (hey!), they can’t rank with us
at the very least they can’t rock with p
cuz they ain’t walked around in the dark as me
they imported we all as sport
for dorky four feet – porkys to torture poor peeps
posse? none, my posture possibly
off to some – it’s probably hardly
all up to one – if i had my fun
it’d be marcus garvey clones riding harleys
so ungodly – human even
but idols lie, they can ruin reason
so not to i, nor towards the sky
when you searching wide for the clues you seekin’
that higher hip is my kind of cliff
i’m dying to hop out my hieroglyph
i climbed inside it to find my niche
and behold a glitch – life’s a b-tch

[hook]
lonely globe, this only stone
lost in sp-ce, take me home
when in rome, my type of poem
rebellious, h-ll yes, i’m off my dome
grown – lone wolf – grown lone wolf – lone wolf
grown lone wolf – grown lone wolf

[break]
pop or cop a squat, i’m bout to drop the deuce
you quacks better duck, i’m papa goose
like dr. seuss, i’m ninety proof, and ten fact
i’ll bend back and fold ben, yes five times, i’ll choke time
my broke mind will bang drums
in cold sp-ce in slow climbs and low vibes

[verse 2]
most artists depict the times
pardon, no – forgive the lie
any mc who commits to trying
i’ll rip out his spine, and whip his behind
i got fish to fry – dragons to slay
get yo -ss from up out of the way
everything i say’s a radical phrase
when i spray the cray there ain’t a d-mn delay
last thing i want out your mouth is praise
just raise your fist and admit to this
my net worth, it was split to fifths
now i ain’t convinced of whose wrist to slit
forefathers or their wh0r- mothers
who decided brothers were a source to plunder
now many more summers have past
at last we drag on – and no wonder
my nose runnin’ – no tissue is issued
haven’t been abused, the indifference’ll get you
k!lled – or better yet vilified after you’re dead
they still speak ill (ew)
in retrospect yet, it seems funny
see, my people used to be money
so stop pretending, the lives these cops are ending
are not just wasteful spending
michael brown took six hits
and the government gave zero sh-ts
the media’s no recourse for us
corporate thugs, still pullin’ they old tricks
we live in times where different tribes
cannot abide by these picket signs
so i’m pitchin’ rhymes like fishin’ lines
the beat is bait, with the hook you’re mine

- pat battle

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