Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song State Prisoner, artist - Black Thought. Album song Streams of Thought, Vol. 3: Cane & Able, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 15.10.2020
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Passyunk
Song language: English
State Prisoner |
We need each other, we have to have each other four our survival |
From the revolutionaries to the conservatives, a black united front |
(Uh huh) Is what we’re about (Yeah) |
The makin' of the mob, the changin' of the guard |
An angel from the Lord in ceremonial garb |
The big homie in charge, main culprit at large |
Emerged over the odds, the victory is ours |
The talented Mr. Trotter, a midnight marauder |
If there’s blood in the water, no stoppin' the top shotta |
I drop bombs, multiple arms like candelabras on a mission |
I’m chasing chicken like a Chupacabra, nigga |
Salute your father, I’m headed back to Wakanda |
After the drama, rappers get medivac’ed to the trauma |
To kill a lion separated from the pride |
I rule Zion, I am the most hated one alive |
A gun was fired, another one expired |
I represent the unwanted, undesired |
Wash me hands off it all, then raise one and testified |
To lyrical manslaughter, I’m guilty but justified, nigga |
I started running the streets when I was nine |
When, when I started running around at nine |
I knew what I was gonna do when I was ten |
Trust the vibe when it’s the fly sinister |
Philly’s certified finisher, the prime minister |
In God’s image the monument, the homage is to |
The problem is acknowledgin' how to apply penance for the transgressions |
That I’ve accepted in acquiescence of my own presence |
As I inspected my loaded weapon (Y'all just don’t get it) |
So stream it at your own discretion, every answered question |
Investment in your own protection |
They be like: «Black, well, who knew we’d be receivin' a new you |
That’s part Zulu and Farrakhan meets Pharaoh Khufu?» |
Misinterpret my level of genius and call it cuckoo |
But the Swahili meaning of freedom is still uhuru |
To the booth guru, I deliver the truth to you |
Who got the nerve to act as if this isn’t proof to you |
That I will mobilize a militia then troop to you? |
No tellin' what I got in the system to shoot through you |
If it’s too brutal, look the other way like I’m bribin' you |
But surrender all your valuables as if I’m robbin' you |
As I slide, the hassle to the side, like a tassel |
The facade of the place I reside is like a castle |
I’m the honorable Pensée Noir, my nom de guerre |
I’m the czar, the Peking-to-Paris, is my kinda car |
I’m the R, I’m the L, I’m the Kane |
All correlated, unadulterated power |
The king been coronated, wake up |
No masquerade, remove the make-up |
It’s no sleep, but my eyes refuse to stay shut |
It’s gatekeeper’s responsible for this place |
But historically, the authorities been morally bankrupt |
Enter the executioner, speaking of retribution |
I will send shots to Lucifer even to catch the future |
Me and the best producers out again, en route again |
Airborne audio spores, it’s like an allergen, so |
In conclusion, I wanna clear the confusion |
Any rumors the artist you’re currently hearin' is human |
The shapeshifter, weightlifter, I hate Hitler |
I’m the great victor behind the bars, state prisoner |