Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Rousseau, artist - CYNE. Album song Evolution Fight, in the genre Танцевальная музыка
Date of issue: 28.08.2005
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Project Mooncircle
Song language: English
Rousseau |
The chimp in the jungle, I like to gather in wisdom in bundles |
My arms swing from the branches of life, I write humble |
My notes are crumbled, my hopes are fumbled |
Can’t drop it, a ghost among you folk that stumbled ‘cross logic |
I’m definite, like change. |
I strain with rewards while |
Speck and, Enoch start banging on boards |
Daily routines like fiends that’s stuck on the crack pipe |
I rhyme over feedback, dare mics not to act right |
The emcee, and see y’all just tempt me with |
All ya propaganda, ya souls are empty |
I was born free, now I stay confined, in this day of time |
A slave to the ways of the world, although I’m not blind |
Machine gotta, hold on ya blue jean products |
Whether you white or black, rich, or poverty’s product |
It’s a known fact, sorta like forty acres they owe blacks |
I might, hitch hike on hope’s road and never go back |
I was born free, but now I’m like a slave to society |
Can’t get a license without consent to field sobriety |
If you have a plan, they say life will flow beautifully |
I need tech support like Vanilla Sky |
‘Cause someone lied to me, told me shit was cool |
I made good grades, but damn, then got kicked outta school |
It doesn’t matter, my computer doesn’t read the data |
Even if you’re smart, your life still can get shattered |
Into little pieces, this is my thesis |
Just ‘cause I raised BB in the belly of the beasts |
My people died in vain, the pain is on my brain |
And how can I get by when held by this mental strain? |
I just don’t understand, I be’s a grown ass man |
But every time I see the cops they make me lift my hands |
So they can pat me down, and I just don’t see how |
I played by they rules but they still treat me foul |
Damn! |
So what is this I’m living, day in and day out earning |
My soul I hope to spend it, it’s the petty change I’m getting' |
Back through transactions, money limits my actions |
I try to raise up but—(damn, damn) |
Trying to move I struggle, moving through hurt’s trouble |
Bumping my head against the ceiling—I ain’t even stumble |
My eyes are black and blue, rattle my shackles too |
I try to remove 'em but damn |
Sounds like that I’m in jail, but really I’m in hell |
The space between my two ears became my private cell |
Ready and willing, able, anything justice stable |
They just cut off my cable! |
No food up in the kitchen, but I got dirty dishes |
Does that make any sense? |
My life ain’t ever easy, my girlfriend’s gonna leave me |
Who scratched my Nas CD? |