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letra de true natural - windmills

[intro]
“what is it about art anyway that we give it so much importance?
…the money earned, proof, pure and simple, of the value of that individual: the artist
…you can never explain to someone who uses god’s gift to enslave, that you have used god’s gift to be free.”

[verse 1 – framework]
this movement of music for you is improving
how soon we forget what i do at events;
ruin the mood of the room and they’re losing
as bullets of sweat drip down from their neck
cause they’ve screwed the consumer, making them foolish
to choose what they did and it lost their respect
while i find it amusing as if their -ssuming
my rhymes aren’t the kind that are live and direct
throw away any image of pushing me to the limit
i’m motivated and driven with unbelievable rhythm
to blow your brain with a written, so creative and vivid
even if i keep it short as a conversation in prison
it’s vital that i know, ways to remind those
why i’m designed for the stage with a rhyme flow
i’m insightful and hit some rough patches
into more fans who rush the stage at us

[verse 2 – framework]
rather chew gl-ss then see us with a brand new track
then do that, and chew it like you can’t stand rap, for the
word lovers, showing my true colors
shaking the earth under your feet when i burn rubber
a true natural who can grab the room
move the whole crowd and do what he has to do;
that’ll scratch a few records in the afternoon
i’m giving the whole culture new att-tude
as something the crowd needs and no one can touch me
i’ve driven the country as heavy as concrete, with the
cops thinking that i’m breaking the law
for the way that i walk through the day to enjoy
wanna stop me and ask if they’ve already saw me before
when they put me in the back of their car
as if i’m running from the law cause they want war
trying to put me on the floor like a trap door

[verse 3 – framework]
frame and rex rey, we’re making it sound great
discovered and found ways to spread like an outbreak
while others are getting p-ssy as a worn out mattress
inside a house that smells of old cabbage
sucking wind as if a woman who’s fat slob
with corns on her toes that you could light match on
food shopping and it’s random as a flash mob
walking into stores to see if they can get reactions;
like a kid who goes to school about to blast off
cause they don’t wanna trash talk with a gl-ss jaw
another bullet screaming, “this is what you asked for!”
taking a shot as if they caught it off the backboard

- windmills

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