| Nah nah son
|
| You ain’t really gotta go out there and kill them man
|
| Give me the gun, lemme talk to you for a minute
|
| Gimme the gun, sit down, lemme talk to you
|
| I see your destiny revealed looking through my windshield
|
| A little child running wild since Curtis Mayfield
|
| A lot of homies got killed over bagging up crills
|
| Moms stressed out for real when she adding the bills
|
| I get chills from the pain every time that I kneel
|
| Now my head is saying prayer for the rest of Israel
|
| Ever since crack came leaving the projects lame
|
| Cause we never did invest in no money we made
|
| It’s just a dead end street, one way to the grave
|
| You see the funeral arrangements unlocking the cage
|
| Some will join FBI start dropping them names
|
| We was hustling for who when they copped their caine
|
| CIA traced Escobar, they wired his plane
|
| They tapped the phone calls of Malcolm so the '70s changed
|
| We became drugs and guns with God Body names
|
| Tag graffiti on the walls of trains, then form into gangs
|
| Now we got old gold wishes and project dreams
|
| Coke in our genes for all the neighbours who done turned into fiends
|
| Some controlled like puppets on strings but who cares
|
| When you can’t get a dollar from none of your peers
|
| Sit on the stairs with our weed and beers with ideas
|
| How to make it out the ghettoes and rise to millionaires
|
| KnowhatI’msayin', God?
|
| How long your crew been known?
|
| There’s real craziness in society
|
| They tryin' to steal man
|
| I’m a street G but still son I write it deeply
|
| When I zone like Phillis Wheatley, that’s how you greet me Dead poets give me the motive, if they don’t promote it Stay devoted, stay focused 'til there’s plagues and locusts
|
| Cause you can’t buy your soul back from Lucifer’s office
|
| Tell Bush we about to make the hood shoot at his office
|
| His tradition in Skull and Bones sleeping in coffins
|
| Like Gogathan they wanna see me on crosses
|
| German Pope sold canned abortions
|
| I slow it down, shit I break it in portions
|
| You heard right, I ain’t speaking in Martian
|
| I’m hood but I’m conscious, todays that’s nonsense
|
| I do this for the slaves and the brains they washing
|
| Who trained with the marksmen who slept on the park bench
|
| Who hunt men coming out their apartments
|
| Cause too much money got him thinking he Clark Kent
|
| Get treated like you dark skin as soon as you as it’s all spent
|
| Got patriotic hoes and America’s yard pimps
|
| Yo yo I dealt with that crush man
|
| I just do whatever I do about buildin' in the street
|
| Yo 7th pass me that forty man
|
| Yo man shit is crazy man
|
| But that shit is what’s sellin' to the youths man
|
| They buildin off that shit man
|
| Cuz you know people do it without no health care
|
| It’s like. |
| youknowwhatImean?
|
| When you look at it man, there’s not enough homes
|
| Like we gon' have homeless people
|
| And the bastards there buildin' with billions and billions of dollars
|
| That practically print up the money, you know?
|
| That’s why they rule the real estate property… |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Poor Righteous Dreams, artist - Blue Sky Black Death. Album song The Razah's Ladder Instrumentals, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп