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letra de comrades (the language) - the neverending mixtape

[verse 1: 724x]
blood cousins doing time in the dozens
that’s why i tread lightly, got the whole block buzzing
i seen dolph get popped at the cookie shop
i seen pop get popped, no one took his spot
n-ggas really dying for the disrespect
when i get a check, getting straight up out this spinning wreck
price hike up, it seems it’s just to spite us
wonder when the drones coming through to straight wipe us
treated like al-qaeda in my home state
so we keep a couple batters on the home plate
i ain’t saying black panthеrs are in full effect
causе if we get a local chapter, better check your neck
f-ck jail, man the judge don’t even want bail
get into it with johnny, that’s a blunt tale
y’all gon push me to hommy like i’m mach
never sold crack but the snowfall is back
[verse 2: mvx]
i’m from the era where they pitch rocks off the stu
f-cking hoes in the hallway, smoking dope on the roof
n-ggas aim for the truth, nah
aim it at your coupe hit your medulla
with that f-cking deuce deuce
take another bubble hit your knees m-th-f-cka
miss elaine called the cops, they yelling freeze m-th-f-cka
me m-th-f-cka? oh please m-th-f-cka
i scream off, my n-gga corey squeeze off three m-th-f-cka
that’s five for the run, five for the gun
five for the punch that’s fifteen m-th-f-cka
i die before i let them n-ggas box me in a cell
did dirt amongst the soil so a n-gga never tell
i’m from new york
yeah we was raised in the bronx
surgical with the sh-t, yeah my n-ggas raising hawks
38, fours, fives, nines, aks beside of me
numbers on my plate, thought a n-gga hit the lottery

[bridge: agee]
self-reflection breeds self-correction
but caressing one’s ego skew the self perception
complexity in the brain matter
many facets of passive
come correct you’ll retrain bladders
p-ssing people off like the american dream
my roads ain’t golden beholden to samaritan fiends
this garrison bleeds
soldier’s dead on the sidelines in a fight for survival
see these modern advancements retrograded to tribal
[verse 3: szn 3k]
and it’s always the same sh-t, bang or get banged b-tch
ain’t n0body give a f-ck if i’m living in anguish
me and the streets starting to speak the same language
cause before i pick the phone up and answer i already know
it’s 3am another life vanished
i already know they want my soul so i can’t panic
i’m already cold but i know the game is icelandic
i just made another 10 from the stars i be dancing
tryna get away from the booth
cause trespassing in the trap just get me closer to you
i feel like rapping, laying tracks is only something to do
until a n-gga get fed up with my success and they shoot
then it don’t matter who i am or who i was
i’m a product of the system so why should i give a f-ck my whole life all i cared about was blues so on the way down
instead of seeing old friends and playgrounds
i’m hoping that my last shipment make it through

- the neverending mixtape

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