Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Therapy, artist - Cormega. Album song The True Meaning, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 24.06.2002
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Aura
Song language: English
Therapy |
| To ease the mind I analyze between lines I vandalize |
| With rhymes, when I recite I hold the mic like a nine |
| I design like a composer |
| Blow you like a soldier |
| Go for mines with the smoothness, move with composure |
| Grab a mic n' set it like I’m wettin' su’n' with my heater |
| MC’s get wet cuz they be sweatin my procedure |
| Rhymes I design remove stress |
| Like buddah bless in the projects I choose to rep |
| I’m complex like geometry, blessed like ganja be |
| If I die, live niggas gunshots’ll honor me |
| Properly, I be droppin' these lime life philosophies |
| Criminology, it’s just a ghetto nigga prophecy |
| I got to be laid back, in private property |
| Sports cars, dogs, and a yard lots of trees |
| Quite possibly I might even chop a ki |
| 'Cuz even when I chill the D’s are still clockin' me |
| Rookies on their fours havin' wet dreams of knockin' me |
| See me jumpin' out the mean Lex, a street odyssey |
| So vex they follow me son, my policy, here to make mines |
| Sorta like rhyme is a robbery, I take mines |
| There ain’t a mother fucka stoppin' me |
| Rhymes like these, leave ya' mind at ease |
| (*scratching*)Just…Just…Just…Just…Just listen to the man on the mic |
| I’m Sagittarius, the archer, live breed |
| Dimes leave keys to they apartment |
| I snipe mc’s like a marksman |
| Heat of a arson |
| And I’ll freeze ya' mind like a breeze from the Arctic |
| Seize like the narcsters |
| When on stage I feel weak, you breathe out ya' nostrils |
| You seek enlightenment you can be my disciple |
| Son I don’t wanna be in Queens house with my boo |
| Stressed out because case supreme might indict you |
| I do what I got to do survive I’ve slung jums n' bottles |
| Touched blood money, bust guns with hollows |
| A man child command crowds in smooth apparel |
| Write quite illustrious n' live like a pharaoh |
| My destiny’s to spread my wings like a sparrow |
| My pen’s addicted to men who’ve been convicted |
| Every housin' projects I’ve repped the realness |
| Son I sit down with convicts, deal wit' killers, chill wit' dealers |
| I ain’t really feelin' niggas rhymes these days |
| I coincide each phrase to write so deep my line’s engraved |
| Like a gemstar inside a plate |
| I’m tryin' to live cuz I’mma die one day |
| If crime don’t pay |
| My currency’s defined off the rhymes I say |
| I’mma po-et due to my respect of Bigs' assassination |
| I rep NYC with no kingly aspiration |
| My feet stand on pavement once felt by Pappy Mason |
| 'Cuz self-preservation is the first law of nature |
| I clutch a M-I-C while semi- squeeze |
| Rhymes like these, leave ya' mind at ease |
| (*scratching*) Just… Just…Just…Just |
| Listen… Just…Listen…Listen…Just…Listen to the man on the |
| Mic… Just…Just listen… Just listen… Just…Listen to the man on the |
| Mic… Listen…Listen…Listen to the man on the mic (*end scratch*) |