Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song One Chance, artist - Foreign Beggars. Album song Bukkake Ski Trip, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 14.08.2010
Record label: Dented
Song language: English
One Chance |
Keep your eyes open |
Live your life to the fullest |
Cuz you only get one chance to move past the bullets |
It’s a big world we all live we all die |
But, who makes the rules in this game we call life |
Keep your eyes open |
Live your life to the fullest |
Cuz you only get one chance to move past the bullets |
It’s a big world we all live we all die |
But, who makes the rules in this game we call life |
I stay afloat while you’re drowning in a sea of pain |
You seek asylum tryna run me all believe the chains |
Speak the same words, reek the same as any other shite |
Then you wonder why we choose to fight, I hear my brothers cry |
Sliced through the night, like the blade of a blunt sabre |
Walk with my eyes closed in spite of a cunts nature |
And rise passed the pinnacle, holding a burning torch |
Of a million indispensable visions of burning thoughts |
I stay patient, the pale-faced belligerent outcast |
Wizard of indecision chased the pilgrimage out — cast — |
Religion is doubt, blast the infamous |
Cowards can’t begin to configure or envision this town’s past |
I live in the clouds ask those who stand close |
Is it cuz I disbelieve or simply cuz I can’t cope |
I can’t bear to see the innocent suffer and die young |
That’s why I’ve come to say my piece |
So enough with the lights done |
(tryna find a niche in this rap game) — Dr Syntax |
Nobody can question how this black youth spit |
Looking kinda skinny like a black toothpick |
It’s the uncouth author who writes with a troubled expression |
Reciting in a huddle confessing bubbling essence |
I conversate with one of my bredrens |
Wonder whether we’ll ever get to reep the some of our efforts |
In this exi-sten-tial |
Life’s gets the pen-cil |
I’m getting rubbed out |
Im getting nuffed out |
Ready to get the fuck out |
And buss out |
So I puff nuff punk and bust out |
And hold a slight pose |
As I travel through my mind’s cold |
And draw my overcoat closed cuz the night-times cold |
And getting colder |
Yearning with a burning fever |
For the clutch of the mic |
That’s my cue to breath |
When I exhale the next tale |
And fresh thought upon which to set sail |
On the next trail … |
Yo invisible guy who delivers his rhymes sicker |
The mystical mind figure |
Despicable style spitter |
Disguised with the livin and exist in a time signature |
Why mixed with the bit of conviction its quite sinister |
I’m in it to win |
Use syllables, words, paragraphs |
Envision the future |
Paint with diction fixed the battered calf |
I watched the hourglass |
Laughed at my indecision |
Picked myself up but faced the blizzard with my tattered scarf |
You might as well be banging your fist against a brick fence |
Indispensable principles tend to break sense |
If shits tense |
Take a couple secs and step aside and listen |
At the end of the day the guy your fighting might be live with wisdom… |
Whether you’re inside a prison blud |
Or fucking living lavish |
Truth, blood, forgiveness and passion are the things that matter |
I spit the maddest verse and live the maddest dreams |
Rip the fattest shows because I kick it with the maddest team |