| I need friends, need food, need faith, need love
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| Not fame, not hate, not pain, not drugs
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| Give me all the things I need
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| Not the things i don’t want
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| Why you gonna fill your zoot
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| With tobacco bill a blunt
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| I never wanna feel no lumps
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| Cause they’re killer like guns
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| That’s for real son
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| What the hell is shame
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| I don’t feel none
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| Always looking shifty
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| Till the second that the deal’s done
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| Old Bill hot on my heels
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| You know I will run
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| To a high hill and chill
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| Until I feel numb
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| Tracks still banging
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| Like Bricky man on steel drums
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| Skin and bones shivering
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| Still I need to chill with the quill
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| Reveal real ill skill to feel discipline
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| Still on the inside
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| Expressive on the outside
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| It’s better that that way
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| Pain alleviates with out cries
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| Plus a little chronic
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| Getting hit up through a down pipe
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| You wanna hear the truth in a mans voice
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| This is what it sounds like
|
| Where am I?
|
| Who’s looking at me?
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| Who can I trust?
|
| No one around
|
| Except my allies
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| It’s fucked
|
| I’m so disorientated
|
| Where am I?
|
| Who’s looking at me?
|
| Who can I trust?
|
| No one around
|
| Except my allies
|
| It’s fucked
|
| I’m never counter productive
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| I counter destructive structures
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| Never ever uninterrupted
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| Finger fuck the system till it buses
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| Spitting on the top deck of the bus
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| Bringing the ruckus, swigging the rum up
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| Coming up like drug rushes 'cause
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| I’m in the gutter like a dutty mother fucker
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| Bringing light like it’s colours for the others
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| Trying to shine like summers
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| On the lines like runners
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| But with rhymes for my brothers
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| Killing time never rushing
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| Hibernate to calibrate the phrase
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| Why your fronting like the book I’m clutching?
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| I mash your brain, prepare to seckle
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| Rookies getting tucked in cause they’re stunting
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| Like the Tasmanian Dare Devil, tread careful
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| Like you’re walking up some stairs without a banister
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| Stagger your swagger to eliminate the massacre
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| Positive character that drops the knowledge standard 'cause
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| I’m trying to keep you out the prison gates like a barrister
|
| Where am I?
|
| Who’s looking at me?
|
| Who can I trust?
|
| No one around
|
| Except my allies
|
| It’s fucked
|
| I’m so disorientated
|
| Where am I?
|
| Who’s looking at me?
|
| Who can I trust?
|
| No one around
|
| Except my allies
|
| It’s fucked |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Disorientated, artist - IllinformedAlbum song Patterns of Escapism, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп