| Oh my, God, I can’t believe my eyes
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| Wake up everybody you know
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| Come on watch the garden grow
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| I’ll see you when you get there
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| Uh, alright, yeah, two fifteen, yo
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| Downtown for the win, woah
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| Sean C for the tempo, Portugal for the intro
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| This is Arctical Don Disco from the one choir
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| Calling shots like an umpire
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| Where I live, yo, man, I done lost mad kinfolk
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| Over gunfire through the window
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| As a young squire who become Sire
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| I had no way to tell what I was in for
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| I was 5'9″ like Royce with the giant voice like Mik Winslow
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| Never been quite lik them so I’m on my own time
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| Mind darker than a coal mine
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| Thoughts deeper than a gold mine
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| So I’m out here slangin' on this blade
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| Hopin' that I don’t get cut by these police
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| Makin' raids on those of us who know what’s up
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| My lil' homies, my lil' sons
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| Got them keys and they got them drums
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| Making superstitious runs on them insufficient funds
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| No more rules in this here shit, toddlers packin' a revolver
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| How the hell you robbers gonna rob the robber?
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| See you with that heater, you sweeter than peach cobbler
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| If it ain’t about that paper, then man that ain’t what Reek habla
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| Man, you know what’s goin', they say, «Woke about that dope»
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| Ask them fiends about them keys, 'bout that coke, 'bout that smoke
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| Two fifteen my city, man, and we it from 'round here
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| If it’s crazy where you at then, it ain’t no different 'round here
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| Oh my, God, I can’t believe my eyes
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| Wake up everybody you know (We all got away from you)
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| Come on watch the garden grow (We all got away from you)
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| I’ll see you when you get there
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| Oh my, God, I can’t believe my eyes
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| Wake up everybody you know (We all got away from you)
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| Come on watch the garden grow (We all got away from you)
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| I’ll see you when you get there
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| Yo, reminiscin' over old times, sip a little bit of Oban
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| When the wind blow like a land mine, balled up fist now
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| Who the fuck’s this calling on the landline?
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| Back back like a hair line, I don’t really want the air time
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| I don’t wanna smile for the camera, damn, I just wanna see my fam rise
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| I can feel when a man lies, tryin' to grow old and wise
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| And I’m still fly like airlines, stay sharp like samurais
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| Dip low like Cam’ron, Big Show when it’s slam time
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| Word to my nigga Anton
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| Bogarting through this door
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| Hopin' that it don’t get shut
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| By these police makin' raids on those of us who know what’s up
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| My lil' uzi weighs a ton, man, I truly ain’t the one
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| My lil' junior straight from juvie, make a movie gangster run
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| Y’all confusin' this here shit with some television drama
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| None of y’all lil' mamas touching Mr. Trotter
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| Even with that heater, you sweeter than peach cobbler
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| Real ones out here winnin', you swimmin' in deep agua
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| Click, pow, I’m a rebel just for kicks now
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| Been down with the get down
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| You ain’t sayin' shit, sit down
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| This loud, twenty one pound, my town
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| Man, we it from 'round here
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| If they 'bout it where you from, then it ain’t no different down here, listen
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| Oh my, God, I can’t believe my eyes
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| Wake up everybody you know (We all got away from you)
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| Come on watch the garden grow (We all got away from you)
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| I’ll see you when you get there
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| Oh my, God, I can’t believe my eyes
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| Wake up everybody you know (We all got away from you)
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| Come on watch the garden grow (We all got away from you)
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| I’ll see you when you get there
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| Yeah? |
| Alright, I’ll come home
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| At the end of the day, everybody got good and bad
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| In every culture, in every race
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| But you also gotta remember where your people at
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| 'Cause you always should want to love your people unconditionally no matter
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| what |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Quiet Trip, artist - Black Thought. Album song Streams of Thought, Vol. 3: Cane & Able, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп