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letra de gza chew sticks - vega7 the ronin

[intro: book$]

yo
remember, it was the ronin that asked me to do this to you
you already know my n-gga
book$
yo

[verse 1: book$]

gloom and dreary
paint a new york night
new york lights add a spark
to what hides in the dark
if not police lights, or corner stores
it’s candlelit vigils for soldiers lost in these corner wars
it’s like our souls get gnawed to the gristle
as sure as beef bacon pops on a griddle
you could be sure that a mother lose her son to a pistol
some hearts as brittle as rock salt
i thought cool nights, equal cool heads steady the ship
but tempers flare even as the mercury dips
credit the k2 stench and hallway p-ss
that singe my nose hairs
is there hope? yeah!
but i seen many futures decompose here
so i was told clear to keep the toast near
i’m tryna grow hairs that’s pigeon gray
double my pay from carter block hallways
to puffing fuentes on a fairway
extend my days by evading drama
mastermind like masaaki homma
in barahona sipping mamajuana
[verse 2: vega7 the ronin]

the skies was grey and darkened
raised up in laurelton
as a mother lose her gift to major conflict
gza chew sticks… 226 asian market
boxes was illegal… gave a f-ck what the cable costing
we let that rifle up out the living room window from kay’s apartment…
uhh!
should been seen by a medic team at 17
melted tongue like mephisto…
mixing red cisco with devils springs
the red can was ‘dax’… the black was the ‘sporting waves’
mixtapes in corner store displays
we fought through these wars with quarter grenades
and city club sodas that cured us from plague…
like luis sera
sunrise movie theater
moms hid her mace… security cleared her
it’s dollar-van ropes that i’m hanging ya’ll n-ggas wit… drop em off
crackheads with western beef shopping carts… like bubbles from the wire
i had to wait until the rug was drier
cause the heavy rain at my mothers crib would leak up under the fridge and it made the puddle higher
held the gas down on one bic while sparking this other lighter
came home off the train to the distant sirens of cover fire…
streets watch me…
i saw the ghosts of my deceased posse through the smoke cloud when a seed would pop in the beef and brocolli
chrome spittin’
shantae grandmother had caught one in the shoulder through the side of the crib while in her own kitchen

- vega7 the ronin

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