Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Streets, artist - Black Thought. Album song Streams of Thought Vol. 2, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 25.11.2018
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Human Re Sources, Passyunk
Song language: English
Streets |
I said my cranium is vibranium, my brain is uranium and titanium |
Forty-fives, who aimin' 'em? |
Organize the stadium |
Tell 'em, «Take cover, I warned you not to play wit' 'em» |
Them borderline war crimes, you got away wit' 'em |
Who came to save the day and brought the K wit' 'em? |
Tariq the people’s champ from the equal team |
Tryna keep it clean 'long as all my people solid deen |
I’ve been in the music scene long as Allen Leeds |
Make they salaries, still accumulatin' calories |
Demonstratin' how to breathe, Senegalese, Genovese |
I been a reason to freeze, reek G’s in the league |
On my own, gettin' cheese |
I will hurt Hercules, I will merc most MCs |
I’m the last one to show up, the first one to leave the crime scene |
The obscene, Salam theme, the ridiculous rhyme scheme |
The stick to the grind gene, the hell with the hygiene |
It’s a dirty bomb, word to seven thirty time |
Disaster level nine eleven meets the eleven nine |
Catastrophe beyond incredible, I redefine the seventh sign |
Faster, scarier, mass hysteria from Damascus, Syria |
To middle America, school cafeterias and cul-de-sacs |
I told you that the boss is back, know what I’m sayin'? |
In these streets that I call home |
Unless you’re blind, you’ll see it all |
In these streets it’s cold at night |
Sirens screamin' by, gunshots all the time |
Yo, omertà code meets the Hippocratic oath |
Observin' his whole circus from a diplomatic post |
My word and his whole purpose, a cinematic scope |
The Earth and its whole surface, I consider that his toast |
Same as Sammy Davis, Bellafonte, Quincy Jones |
Mahatma Gandhi, James Balwdin, Jesse Owens |
Runnin' from a cop car, me and Akbar |
I changed from a rock boy to a rock star |
Hijack the elevator to the top floor |
I’m takin' everything that’s left like a southpaw |
Crash and burn and learn through osmosis |
And watch the word spread like Tuberculosis |
I took a snapshot but it hurt to post it |
I had a Black Thought and they called it wokeness |
Overdoses, water bugs and roaches |
Forty Cals and holsters, all halal and kosher |
Twenty thousand jokers, one ain’t playin' |
I’m Claude Brown, Man-child in the Promised Land |
In these streets that I call home |
Unless you’re blind, you’ll see it all |
In these streets it’s cold at night |
Sirens screamin' by, gunshots all the time |