Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Good Morning (A Nice Hell), artist - Bronze Nazareth. Album song Bronzestrumentals Vol. 1, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 03.08.2009
Record label: Babygrande
Song language: English
Good Morning (A Nice Hell) |
Yeah… you know. |
Aight… yo. |
Knowimsayin, let me walk through the yards… yo. |
Let me walk you through the yards where life is truly hard |
On the pathway, from a disease that ashtray |
All day, we on the grind like Monday |
Just let me smoke my insence, life is intense |
Like the Black Day in July. |
Excuse me, mam, I’m just try’nna get by Just try’nna get past these souls that fly |
Like the bullets down my way, hoes around my way |
Souls is drowing in the dead sea of sex and Alize |
Look out for the dead children, maybe you’ll find hope |
Sitting in the building, around a plate of that coke |
Damage your mammo-grammy, we see what’s in your heart |
On the road to nowhere, the boulevard; |
Rosa Parks |
Those are sharks, wake up, cause the jakes up Just try’nna reach for his goal, he reach for his gun |
It ain’t no Tums when the heart burns like the sun |
Tears for the whine, sims, this can’t be life |
Flowers for sale, half off the funeral price |
Rock skip accross lungs, family are stunned |
Good morning, the flute plays my song of sorrow |
Today we got hope, but what about tomorrow? |
Good afternoon, still blast the same tune |
Good evening, thief Steve was his demon |
He came screaming, like «Blaow! |
Nigga fuck ya life» |
Good night, sometimes hell seems kinda nice |
She came tears, screaming, like why they take his life? |
Kissed his forehead in the coffin, good night |
Float through the day, like heroin in the veins |
Of a mad sinner, from whiskey to a bad liver |
It’s mad different, when he trying on my shoes |
Maybe they learn in turn, that I don’t wanna breathe booze |
And they don’t wanna sell birds, bricks &bodily germs |
Just try’nna reach our goals, so we reach for what burns |
And I probably know I’m wrong, but it’s the same old song |
On the radio playlist, how the sales made him famous |
And you probably wouldn’t see us, just as niggaz &felons |
Maybe you’ll find promise in a box of ego talents |
Maybe you’ll see dreams in the eyes of the fiends |
And the tray green for green, is the best way, it seems |
Now we ain’t say we innocent, angels, or preacher’s sons |
But you slap my hand away whenever I reach for funds |
Anger and pain, take a bang of the George brain |
On the train to nothingness, with wilther mere dreams |
It ain’t no time, when freedom is on the clock |
You’ll either join your sports team or I’ll bench press a glock |
Good morning, I guess we never broke the slavery bonds |
Cause I came out the precint with the same chains on Good afternoon, I’m still laughing at the moon |
Good evening, we all poured our liquor out grieving |
Poured our liquor grieving. |
Psalm pulled a pipe, like wait, I love life |
Good night, sometimes you die after you see the light |
He shot to the side like last night’s dice |
Missed the man on purpose, cause he regained his sight |
Psalm pulled a pipe, like wait, I love life |
Good night, sometimes you die after you see the light |
He shot to the side like Antonio McDyess |
Missed the man on purpose, cause he regained his sight |
And that’s how it goes, when it goes how it goes. |