Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Twofifteen, artist - Black Thought. Album song Streams of Thought Vol. 1, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.05.2018
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Human Re Sources
Song language: English
Twofifteen |
«Hey dis |
C’est pas vrai, dis |
Pince-moi, dis (Twofifteen) |
C’est comme si je n’avais jamais dansé avant» |
Yo, the big wheel keep turnin' like Ike’s and Anna Mae’s |
The church kitchen hustlin' dinners every Saturday |
Pull over, let me grab a plate, I tend to gravitate |
Towards how fish dinners from a styrofoam platter taste |
My granddaddy sported plaid Donny Hathaways |
Hustlin' for everything we had 'til he passed away |
When I would ask him 'bout what path to take |
He used to laugh and say, «No man is an island but I’m a castaway» |
Casualties, I seen 'em like the French Foreign Legion |
On the streets, they used to carry out bizarre procedures |
In jean jackets and Jabbar Adidas |
Back when local R&B was just as soulful as orthopedics |
Me and my man twistin' up some reefer and wishin' |
We knew all the town hitmen in the likes of Sam Christian |
On the edge of existence, man, listen |
Understand, respect and fear was the all-American ambition |
For badass kids in the laundromat, foldin' a load |
Well lo and behold, a whole 'nother fork in the road |
My wish for them is that the truth is eventually told |
Out on the corner, where whatever you can sell is sold |
I heard murder ran this vast, deserted land |
Since back when Burning Man was blacks in Birmingham |
Before the presidential election diversion scam |
Matter fact, before they clapped Franz Ferdinand |
You gossip on Jay and Beyoncé or Kim and Kanye |
But keep risin' to the top, what my mind say |
Picture my daughter drinkin' water where the sign |
Say, «For colored girls,» I ain’t talkin' Ntozake Shange |
Who said it’s Senegal? |
I was a king in general |
Rich in every resource, precious metal and mineral |
Before the devil entered the land of the plentiful |
With that Jamaican funk, gotta get it into who |
For generations under God, indivisible |
Psych ward patients, vampires in a interview |
Become institutionalized, what a nigga do |
But what we had to do to survive, none of them could do |
Who the technical culprit? |
I don’t mess with no vultures |
I’m electrical voltage, not the regular dosage |
Too obsessive compulsive, I’m a fuckin' explosive |
Mixed message in a bottle, I left with the postman |
I’m that arachnophobia, black petroleum |
Ceremoniously holy when at the podium |
Even though it’s hotter than weapons-grade plutonium |
The people tryna check for the return of the Ichiban |
Obi-Wan, universe, you owe me one solid |
My homie Gonzalez, only know gun violence |
On the corner where they probably on they 21 Savage |
Catch two in your cabbage, Young Cesar Chavez |
Division one, yo, wait a min', where we get our rhythm from? |
Continuum, still swingin' like a pendulum |
Here the women come, sing it like Sarah Vaughan |
Heard 9th up in a house from North Carilon' |
Ain’t no mannequin challenge, but y’all paralyzed |
It’s gettin' cold outside, a word from the wise |
Y’all niggas better bundle up |
But I bet it be a hotter summer, not for nothin' |
Yo, the cops get down, especially when it come to us |
Nigga better be a Rockefeller |
Get that out your pocket fella, sang acapella |
Ain’t a damn thing really changed as far as I can tell it |
Another soul with no name, the helicopters hunted |
Look like a couple of days before the doctor comin' |
But that’s my little cousin, watch him for me |
I think the world tryna sock it to me |
It kinda feel like everything is out of pocket for me |
Who keep it a hundred when everything’s partial? |
Dignity and sanity is what the game cost you |
Wake up to the paddles on your chest, we had lost you |
I’m just paintin' a picture like Kerry James Marshall |
I’m just takin' a picture like Carrie Mae Weems |
So smile and say cheese, we in 2018 |
In a pyramid scheme, nightmares and day dreams |
From the runaway slave to a modern day king |
«Hey dis |
C’est pas vrai, dis |
Pince-moi, dis |
C’est comme si je n’avais jamais dansé avant» |