letra de deep end - prince tae
talking: mic check one, two. how we do, follow…
verse: swallowing hard truths, chasing with faults// when good intensions never wielding results// hmm what a bitter mixture// imperfections overflowing needing for bigger pitchers// sip up half full or empty, how you filling yo cup?// filtered feelings get tricky when the real is trickling from the faucet// applying pressure with plyers hope i ain’t lost it// get a grip ‘fore its too late and i’m flooded with hate// let the pain drain from my brain so it can sink and i can think straight// capture the vision ‘fore it go blank// hard to paint with conviction with conflictions coexisting within yo think tank// let me burry them, master the motions of my aquarium// only natural space in a place like a terrarium// d-mn that’s deep as megaphones blowing baritones// heavy as baring a ton if you can carry them// cuz while these rap guys is broadcasting their lies this revolution ain’t been televised// so f-ck it i’m airing them// no comparing them peep the fear in their eyes already scaring them// sonning niggas ain’t even shining yet i’m just flaring them// cooking sustenance for your soul come grab a plate of this// hard to deliver substance when your catering to cadences// cuz unless you jackin’ or borrowing flows from their favorites// niggas won’t even play your shit its craziness// chalk it up to laziness// can’t expect feeble minds to relate to this// just, don’t question my presence its clear that i was made for this// wrapping up a strong year, how far i came along here// hella comfortable in my zone, i need a long chair// still its something wrong here// half of yall don’t belong here// escort these niggas off of the stage// get ’em a gong here// aw yea its officially our year// offhandedly offing all these off brand niggas when i get on here//so ring the alarm, tell flex to drop a bomb here// fire squad with a repertoire that’s mean as sadam’s here// or james bond with the golden arm so tell them niggas keep calm// blickin’ off any bic that i grip on// mr. dillinger ever so diligent with that quick draw// ballpoint stickin’ niggas with writtens get your shit torn
bridge: fish to a fin, michael phelps with the pen// sink or swim, can’t stroke then keep your -ss out this deep end// at it again// young niggas trying to win// giving glimpses of g*nius with the writtens let you peak in
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