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letra de miracle - young english

[hook]
i’m a fucking miracle!
i should be in a museum
people should study my body
to figure out what i am
a fucking miracle
i had to say it again
give me a pat on the back
you’re lucky being my friend
a fucking miracle…

[verse 1]
do me a favour, listen to this shit with headphones
’cause when i get reflective i spit my best poems
a little insecure, i don’t want the rest knowing
skip this track when your girlfriend gets home
nineteen ninety-fifth was so sick
polo on my chest, polo on my d-ck
this south sea’s sucks for an 8th-grade kid
so we wear what we see on the wu-tang clique
about the same time as the west coast beef
i’m an east coast man, i chose my team
our mvp was b i g
mr wallace was the name, spelled the same as he
the game was weird, had a love for big pop
recognise that difference with him and kid rock
it’s all the same difference with rock and hip-hop
marry that b-tch who we tied a tight knot
i never will regret it to this day
my only regret was the godd-mn age
when i started to put my pen to this page
age 19 was a little too late

[verse 2]
i was in the poker nose, in a motor boat
in the summer time heat, no overcoat
{both been?} ready to die, no rock and roll
with a b-ss to my line on a d-mn fishpole
what a d-mn contrast with a 12-year-old
d-mn 12 {count test?} was awaited home
5 {puss pal?} per alb-m was way too slow
they told me the patients i need to know
biggest pose that he spoke, the rhymes he sold
he sold me on the words, he wrote for {both?}
not a head to, man his work was dope
never heard of a {kleeberger?} man, fuck the soap!
i want to need a new verse, need a new spit
never liked peter muth, he has funny shit
like track number 8, the crazy loose b-tch
makes me wanna go, need some help to fuck right quick

[verse 3]
i had to write a little song just to get my kanye on
cooler than a cold day with the shade drawn
some days you gotta feel your oats
and when the self-esteem is low, really gloat
i really float my tracks are clouds
i’m like a care bear flippin’ when i’m spittin’ moving packs of crowds
i haven’t done it in a minute, but i’m back for good
so excited and delighted that i’m packing wood
held my tongue for too long
need some new songs
middle school rappers pack your bag and move on
the summer is gone and hip-hop’s alive
i feel invigorated like when big pop arrived
sloppy rhymes have got me pissed off
now grown folks are convinced hip-hop is this soft
respect your elders, read a book
stop thinking speaking english is being shook
i’m hip-hop to death, but i rock so hard
that i shock the left
and the right side, same time popping shit
’till my tongue turns brown can’t hold my breath
and i’ll rock to live, what?!

[hook]
i’m a fucking miracle!
i should be in a museum
people should study my body
to figure out what i am
a fucking miracle
had to say it again
give me a pat on the back
you’re lucky being my friend
a fucking miracle…

- young english

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