Lyrics Judas - Funky DL

Judas

Eighteen wearing blue jeans, a snap-back mesh
Clean fade under the cap, his shoes box-fresh
Smoking on a blunt head, eyes red high as kite
Comes out mainly at night, sells green brown and white
Police pull him over, try and test his composure
It holds up like a dude that’s older, a soldier
He learned from them older dudes behind bars
Who flossed with fine cars, jewellery and bitches on their arm
Taking pictures like no harm would ever come to these Gods
They see that people get caught, but think they can beat the odds
They crazy, but back to Mr Man, palm tight-fisted hand
In a stairwell for 15 seconds, Instagram
Snapped by them Undercovers?
Tapped by them other Brothers?
Nah, he ain’t on they radar, mind like a razor
You can’t feel his activity, he’s screen saver
His attitude is you are only what the streets make ya'
Danger around every corner
Where the strangers call him on his cell phone
Talkin' bout they short a couple bucks, can I pay a little later?
Can I get it from my neighbour?
Can I pay you with some labour?
Why won’t you do me this favour?
I am a loyal customer
But they are only loyal to the drugs not the hustler
Defiant to his Moms and reliant on his charm
So a giant stack of money’s what he’s holding in his palm
One day he sat and listened to Minister Farrakhan
From the Nation of Islam quoting from the Bible Psalms
Chapter eighty-two, verse six opened his eyes
You are Gods;
and all of you are children of the Most High
He thought about it, but stuck with the same old
Just because he used to wear silver, but now his chain’s gold
And he chose to walk this road
He’s prepared to reap all the harvest from the seeds he sowed, word
Yeah, uh, uh, uh, uh
Yeah, uh, uh, yeah, uh, uh…
Couch-surfing in his Nike TN’s
Watching James Bond classics, Bank Holiday Weekend
He’s waiting for the contraband re-up
Relies on his supplier to hire the clientele
And make the high higher
No sign for him to retire, his bank balance on fire
He’s inspired by Avon Barksdale from The Wire
A criminal, a crook, a felon, a law-breaker
A get high maker, OD and a life taker
It’s time for the wake up call
An opportunity presents itself to take up all of the community
He gotta put his stake up tall, there’s no impunity
The big one and if he get caught, there’s no immunity
He steps back to think about it
Second thoughts and he’s doubting
That he can get away without prison and overcrowding
23-hour lock-down with a cell mate who got the runs
Pants drop-down
Peeling Oranges to hide a stench without a window
Inmates looking for ass, acting like flamingo’s
Waiting for some new meat so they can do they inside out thing
They wolf whistle, blow kisses, voguing and pouting
The guards acquiesce, dispensing with no less
Than a punch in the chest in the shower when fully dressed
This ain’t the kinda future he looking for
Some changes will need to be implemented before it gets dangerous
Cos turning your life around from carrying a knife around
Selling dope and killing your people
Ain’t nothing hype about kids born addicted
Being weaned off from morphine
Little Brothers acting like the older ones at fourteen
Survival, they thinking they invincible like Michael
But even Michael was a victim to the vicious cycle
Streets are bone idle, suicidal, homicidal
When you play yourself like one of the disciples, Judas