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letra de i didn't fold the clothes - widnick

[intro]
real n-gga gon’ do real things out here
[?] mess music up, that’s how i make a living
i mess anybody’s music up that i play so
whatever, it comes out a little different
and, uh, whatever happens different, that’s what it is
and that’s how i have fun
if y’all [?] just complete it then

[verse 1: mahatma mook]
yuh, bare my t–th to the system
told ’em back up, they wouldn’t listen
so i bit ’em
venom in a vile, vex villains in my head
i ain’t seen you in a while, i guess you happy with the dead
red grass where the cattle bled
i burnt the map, i got faith in the road ahead
look around while i store the bread
ghetto birds using infrared
paralyzed in a garden while a snake sheds
smiling while i’m taking fake meds
pace through patience
my sense of self gone with a whisper
cynicism made relationships blister
pigs is grave fillers
tame ya self before ya head get bigger
ego eating through my chest
crisis existential and financial, can’t afford to rest
treating conversations like a game a chess
“that how we treat our guest?”
i found power when you left
sense surroundings for a deeper threat, nociception
sense the pain before i hit the bed, nociception
i sense the pain before i—
[verse 2: widnick]
yeah, i sense the pain, let it run it’s course
school me on the hard knocks banging on my door
might be the answer i need to help me up and down this court
matched with survival sk!lls i gained from playing this sport
results vary, you can train to aim high
but ya shots falls short
like a shot of scotch
coming out the squared shot glass
it burns with no remorse of course
the final say is in my hands
i can wait or let the burden pass
slip between the cracks
remerge up out the sand, from the broken hour glass
evaluate the weight it had on my firm grasp
it was too heavy to drag
loosened up my grip, gave me a new stance
instead of two, i gained a new set of extra legs
now i move around with a certain edge
certain grounds ain’t for certain men
you gotta search around or search within
lurkers prowl but i don’t lose my breathe
for them i make the air thin
i used to confuse the air in the room with you as being a friend
stupid me but maybe that was true then
[outro]
do you really love me? (do you really—)
[?] darkness over nighttime
do you really love me? (do you really—)
[?] darkness over nighttime
given n-ggas the m-th-f-ckin’ blues, ni— ([?])
[?]
things that make you think, it’s like
even when i get sixty years old and i got false t–th in my mouth
i’ma be rhyming, talking about the false t–th

- widnick

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