Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Valley of Death, artist - CunninLynguists. Album song Dirty Acres, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 01.02.2010
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: APOS
Song language: English
Valley of Death |
Now I seen obscene times before this hip-hop game came |
Like the cops that checked me, left me in mate |
To a system where Gingerbread Men are to overbake |
Put to work in the dirt for a buck and quarter a day |
Choppin' down trees for the next prison that’s made |
And separate us from slaves for thirty dollars in pay |
The jailer got a tailor and an F250 |
Standin' on Dirty Acres feelin' goddamn filthy |
Natti stands for his, suckers crawl for others |
Understand the biz, I suffocate undercovers |
Cause somebody gets paid, our lemons are simply beginnings |
My sweat been the sugar in some cracker’s lemonade |
Got my brother in Baghdad, hands clenchin' grenades |
While we hustle like house niggas, try’na buy chains |
Back asswards for try’na buy change |
I’mma walk through the Valley and rally through my pains, nigga |
I’mma wear your confederate flag and be a rebel |
Burn this witch down, Gretel with heavy metal |
Cancelled, for pissin' on our hopes and esteems |
Since I’s a youth seen it, seen it like they broke in my dreams |
Weave it together, I need all the yarn you can swing |
From filthy farms we learned about what type alarm you can ring |
Are you gon' listen? |
It seems the only sense you got is vision |
And since we shed our senses now the sense is steady slippin' |
And since we stopped our youth from prayin' senselessness is livid |
And the rich don’t really give a fuck cause they don’t gotta live it |
I see hard livin' e’ryday, you never payed a visit |
To ya’ll the 'hood's a museum, in truth we just exhibits |
In truth we just some digits, a means to an end |
By any means from our KY we gon' win |
Since ya’ll won’t listen, I oughta use fists in place of my pen |
So then maybe all this shit’ll sink in |
Dwell in the Valley of Death, fell in the pits it holds |
Been to the mountain top where streets are paved in gold |
But I know «Only God can put out our flame, until then we gon' face our pain» |
And I know «Only God can put out our flame |
Until then we gon' stake our claim, on these Dirty Acres» |