| I’m like a panther in the dark
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| Silent when I strike the paper
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| Like a dagger in your heart
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| When I write I leave a mark
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| I seen the NARCs before they even bark
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| Told son, «Leave the block»
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| Get that money upstairs
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| In case the currency is marked
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| Beat a man who plot against me, God forgive me
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| My enemies die in the street and my heat is empty
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| Coincidentally
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| The same fate was meant for me
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| My AK’s my lawyer
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| When it’s on, it represent for me
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| Vacate the sentence
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| Case acquitted when your face get splitted
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| I stay spittin' with grace, chain glistenin'
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| Gray Timberlands, my niggas face predicaments
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| But we could either live, die, or face imprisonment
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| Take a hit of this
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| Uncut raw, a taste will numb your jaw
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| My rhyme is on consignment
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| Just in case you wanted more
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| Lyrics are furious
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| I reign imperious
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| Niggas ain’t fuckin' with me son, I’m dead serious
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| Streets personify me
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| Like heat I keep beside me
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| Either I be, the most underrated lyrical
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| Drug-related nigga who gun be blazin in the projects
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| A prosperous drug block is subject to conquest
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| Where I’m from
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| A fiend’ll sell a heater for 5 jums
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| Dealers scatter when D’s or Y come
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| R.I.P. |
| is written on walls for people who die young
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| And niggas either dream of b-balling, or to be balling
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| Sometimes it’s hard for me to write
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| Son, the streets calling
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| Patience is a virtue
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| Temptation will hurt you
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| And sentence to a bid
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| Your fake friends will desert you
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| Til' you’re assed out
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| Screaming life’s a bitch that burnt you
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| I don’t expect a fake nigga to feel this
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| Look in my eyes, stare at the realness
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| I was corrupted by drug supply
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| Fly kicks, and buckin' nines
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| Looking up at the skies
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| Thinking I’m too young to die
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| Thoughts of conquering
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| Though we were taught not to sin
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| Supreme Court and death got a nigga losing lots of friends
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| My pen’s immortal like Mommy in heaven
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| No man can harm you
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| An army of angels with true love is there to guard you
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| Tell my dog Blue, I love him like a brother
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| The deep shit
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| Three bricks remain uncut
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| But the industry didn’t want me in
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| They try to condemn me
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| Sprewell of rap, they even try to suspend me
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| Yet a thug nigga rise
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| People are snakes, and justice is blind
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| My jury is my gun on my side
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| Son I write with the trifeness
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| Engraved in Tyson
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| Curse the shots that left BIG and Pac lifeless
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| The realness
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| Some try to conceal this
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| Despite that fact, niggas can’t match my lyrical illness
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| I’m a key, you three grams with cut in it
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| If you want it
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| I don’t give a fuck, nigga
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| Rapper slash drug dealer
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| Slash I bust my gun, nigga
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| Slash your face with a rug, nigga
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| What’s the meaning? |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Verbal Graffiti , by - Cormega. Song from the album The True Meaning, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп