| Slaine:
|
| Yo I roll the dice kissing my palm, a real gambler
|
| But my mission is strong my vision is long
|
| The hardest artist with the pen leaking my pistol is drawn
|
| I walked sidewalks that wished I was gone
|
| Fistful of Psalm, my punch is full of poetry, a pitbull wit rhymes
|
| I roll with dollar bills and I puff my nickels with dimes
|
| They put me in the hospital. |
| Told me I’m sick in the mind
|
| Police pull me over searching for a pistol to find, da nine!
|
| So maybe I’m defiant and young
|
| But I can see my future in the silent eyes of my son
|
| He sayin' «Daddy is an animal. |
| My farther is a sicker soul. |
| Held his gun close
|
| to him, always drank his liquor cold!»
|
| Such a cold bastard I was
|
| I was only passionate about my past as it was
|
| Perhaps I’m to consumed about the cash and the drugs
|
| I shed tears when they ask what I was, I was livin' lost
|
| (Hook)
|
| Money money money got my mind on it
|
| So everyday I’m on my grind homie
|
| Got no clue 'bout when my time gon' end
|
| Like I’m living my whole life blindfolded
|
| I’m lost
|
| (I don’t I know where I’m going to)
|
| I’m lost
|
| (But I can’t do it without you)
|
| Esoteric:
|
| Ya, makin' rap records got me livin' lost like Jack Shepard
|
| No place to hide, no spots to rock, like the black leopard
|
| But I tackle the gazelle, battle rappers till they fell
|
| Insane asylum, whining that they padded to the cell
|
| All you gotta do in 2010 is rap on twitter well
|
| NFL chain movin' to the city citadel
|
| I ain’t BC, I’m a mac so forget it Del
|
| I rock a jersey in Jersey without a bit of gel
|
| I spit it, tell the truth, the kid is hell on wheels with that bitter smell
|
| Like ghost rider, no ghost writer most critics fell
|
| Yo, I’m tryna bake it and fake it until I make it
|
| But that recipe is sacred, don’t you ever mistake it. |
| I can’t
|
| Give up yet, yeah the wisdoms upset
|
| I’m livin' lies, livin' lost, got us livin' in debt
|
| We livin', check to check like tenaments in Prague right?
|
| Shit is fucked up every day and every night
|
| (Hook)
|
| Money money money got my mind on it
|
| So everyday I’m on my grind homie
|
| Got no clue 'bout when my time gon' end
|
| Like I’m living my whole life blindfolded
|
| I’m lost
|
| (I don’t I know where I’m going to)
|
| I’m lost
|
| (But I can’t do it without you)
|
| Krumb Snatcha:
|
| Back then, murda murda all a y’all homie
|
| Never think one blink, wrap em up like ???
|
| Live wire, the mind is electric
|
| Melodic, hypnotic, robotic who wanna set shit in motion?
|
| Rub 'em all out like lotion
|
| Deeper than the ocean, pen and the pad, my potion
|
| I’ll hex ya like voodoo, who do more!!!
|
| The young Islamic, Raja Mohamed wit metaphors
|
| Been lost, what it take to be the best?
|
| Cover all ground, I’m a human GPS
|
| Never have to stress, get lost and I’m coastin'
|
| To the game relief like IB profen
|
| Step on stage, make it scream like banshees
|
| What you know about government cheese in their pantries?
|
| I came from the bottom, man I deserve this
|
| The flow Esoteric, don’t get Slaine by verses
|
| (Hook)
|
| Money money money got my mind on it
|
| So everyday I’m on my grind homie
|
| Got no clue 'bout when my time gon' end
|
| Like I’m living my whole life blindfolded
|
| I’m lost
|
| (I don’t I know where I’m going to)
|
| I’m lost
|
| (But I can’t do it without you) |