a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

letra de west 37th scenario - viracocha mendoza

[verse 1: esé michael the mighty maverick]
do not stand before my grave and weep
because i am not there
and i do not sleep
words of the wise & deceased that i chose to keep
think steep while my hands were the color of vermilion
sending pure anthrax in my emails
slaying minds with the details
and i envisioned enlightenment tenfold with concise precision
telling these tales, did our streets fail?
sh-t, they raised me
my mind’s all entwined, i need to break free
maybe i’m naive, bruises to my knees only two or three
seen the seven seas cause we don’t live in pangea
our white friends don’t see us
from a small place where we don’t see much, but they freed us, pray to jesus more times than a god could count
mercy mercy i’m traversing, all my thoughts to conversing
i was little on the ave
the ave was little on map
do you feel me?
do not try to heal, strive to hear me
or simply learn the f-cking black vernacular
yeah i’m active, sure, close to magic pure rage in traffic i just hope i p-ss it soon
there’s no teachers to these life lessons
hindsight stressing, i’m not lessened by life’s blessings
and if the times destined, then i know i can catch them
the world in a toss up or we just lost touch, and we lost us
this a lost art, i think it needs a touch-up and i have the just brush
west thirty-seventh, scenario:

[hook]

[verse 2: ness]

[hook]

[verse 3: esé michael the mighty maverick]
they made it so that we could never be good enough
never be more than the little piece of hood in us
never seen sceneries the opposite of looking such
all i want is better days, all i crave is happiness
there’s none of that, so pick a side now; brother against brother
there’s only “shoot that n-gga dead”, no loving one another
there’s only blood stains in the summer, only n-ggas in the gutters
got your mother, brothers, others huddled into smaller numbers
and dysfunction ain’t no curse, that sh-t is taught, in turn, it’s learned
but when we see our brothers down we chant that’s what that n-gga earned
we chant “squad up, stay off my turf”
where colorblindness gets you murked
between the lines is where i learned to teach my people with a verse
can you forgive me though?
for craving something more?
a conscious vibe contrast of the ignorant flows
change of scenario so with this pen i wrote
i’m on a quest to share this narrative with lively prose, but y’all don’t feel me though
are all you fools complacent? do all you make the same sh-t? is all you do is act a fool, like, on your day-to-day sh-t?
kick flows so insane the brain has no vacation while they contemplate on every word that i say
and if an esé can convey these immaculate phrases
if a brother called for brotherhood, would you spit in his face?
and he’s rhyming on pace, said his timings on great
that’s my everyday i’m deity in your face huh
can y’all find my concern in all the dissonance
our people famished that’s why i’m rapping ecstatic with patterns so lavish
y’all trapping n-ggas music is tragic
i had to ship my sh-t from utrecht and saint petersburg don’t take offense
if i could stop all of the hurt in one night
and spread the knowledge, souls revived just when i spit on the mic
but while i’m spitting, you allowing the knowledge to sync?
drink more water, few are quenched yet you poor down the sink
wasteful needy please believe me, we’re not far from the brink
to free my mind and drop the rhymes to let y’all know what i think
f-ck a hot sixteen, that’s not my scene, y’all playing the rook
a f-ck emcee can’t f-cking rhyme like me don’t get your sh-t took
black music whack, either learn to rap, or call it kaputt!
and if n-ggas could even read i would have written the book

[outro: relly snow]

- viracocha mendoza

letras aleatórias

MAIS ACESSADOS