| Though I walk through the Valley of Death
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| I never got lost or took cowardice steps
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| I move honorably, gained a lot of respect
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| Saw of poverty but wouldn’t trade God for success
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| In fact maybe I’m too advanced for crack babies
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| My impact is similar to Basquiat paintings
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| Visually fascinating, reality rap — not the fabricated
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| We’ll have you anxious to sell weight
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| Feds are patient like architects building cases
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| The foundation is information I give in my lyrics ain’t easily assimilated,
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| my pen is crazy
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| I went from livin' on the edge, to the realm of greatness
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| Was willed into existence, this is continuation of skill revealed in music we
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| originated
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| Then places full of napped hair melanated
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| Descendants of slaves who found ways to elevate it
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| Gray’s anatomy, amazed with duality
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| I inhale to propel through polarities
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| Rap reality, trapper, actor or athlete
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| Choose carefully, use vernacular accurately
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| None after me, number four’s factually
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| I’m the core conquistador of the faculty
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| Bastard seed black fatigues
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| Prestigious since Ellesses from the master’s league
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| Master’s weed, placed on a mantle with the Jack Daniels
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| Ruger strap with the wooden shellac handle
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| Tap the sample of proof, cop and bounce
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| Never announce financial, losers stop to count
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| Lost but found was both in the same breath
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| The Sos' remain fresh, every dose came correct
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| To gain respect, hoodie on for the goons
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| So fuck the fake cop that shot little Trayvon
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| I rep my city hard, I live for it
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| I’m like a shotgun blast when I’m recordin'
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| I bring down the house like Steve Martin
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| You can smell weed when your boy pre-boarding
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| Call me Delta, you can earn air miles
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| Tracks like dirty laundry, I air it out
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| Redman like a movie, I’m Paramount
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| That’s why they imitating me, like Weird Al
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| Boy, in the club I get budded
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| Gilla House general, nigga don’t butt in
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| Circle around the block, tell ‘em I’m coming
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| It’s no VIP, I’m in like Bruh Man
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| But I kick back and roll purp up (yes)
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| And write an ill flow when the surf’s up (yes)
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| I stay grindin' when the thirst’s up
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| Hip-hop my bitch, watch how I work her!
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| Short nights make the days longer
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| And your problems start to weigh on ya
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| Gotta pray when they prey on ya
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| Feel kinda funny when the four pounds stays on ya
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| You think it’s much better to hustle
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| For European luxury, American muscle
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| It’s bricks or bread, in the duffle are two long guns
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| Beware of the leather to touch you
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| Thinkin' is it better to crush you or just walk away
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| Looking at your neck, put the hawk away
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| The pain’ll remain, the rain’ll wash the chalk away
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| My problems weigh what a Orca weigh
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| Swimmin' in the waters with the great white
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| On a highway but you don’t see my brake light
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| Seven days in a week, I’m on the 8th night
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| On the dark side but I ain’t bring a safe light |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song MARS (Dream Team) , by - Cormega. Song from the album Mega Philosophy, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп