Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Fragmentation , by - Grits. Release date: 02.11.1998
Song language: English
Fragmentation |
| A mere fragmentation, chip off the old block |
| With the insulated tubing of a football sock, with stripes being levels of |
| achievement |
| Rolling up my sleeves, went and tried to get mine |
| This I found, fine: that I write rhymes for days; |
| please, no praise |
| The latest craze is what’s leaking from the deacon speaking freaking words like |
| the Miami nightclub |
| What’s all the hubbub, Bub? |
| Got all the bits and particles of my articles, piece in the puzzle |
| Searching for the reason to guzzle, drinking juice that ain’t theirs |
| Cold as ice from my stares |
| Fein broken-hearted fit in non-members credit card |
| They weigh in, swearing they’re gonna stay in |
| With my spiritual blessings I’m a spendthrift not a tightwad |
| Keeping pressure off my chest, peaceful sleeping like «Goodnight God,» |
| And slumber-chopping, lumbar-propelled, posture-crushing mainframe |
| Playing brain games to maintain, perpetuate the same thing |
| We are the world, we are the children |
| Throw your hands to the ceiling |
| These fragmentations with high standards, aspirations |
| Using vocal complications, keeping on-air deceit |
| Thinking to yourself, «They're so unique,» |
| Keep your mouth shut, you better not speak 'til my entire satieties satisfied |
| society |
| My variety is gaining notoriety |
| Ah, that was «Fragmentation» on your FM dial — W. F. R. A. G |
| Show me that emcee coming closer in comparison |
| Embarrassing himself, trying to stand within my sphere with metaphoric grind or |
| fantasised rhymes |
| Trapped in the biz of making hits with greatest misses |
| I’m a lyricist of past and current times, in multitudes hearing «Mental,» |
| Fools salute Christian complications in the way I administer medication |
| Calls at congregations to collapse the detonation |
| Facing the fragmentation of breaking down of spirit by supernatural chemicals, |
| reaction to my lyrics |
| How do you want it? |
| East, north, west, or south? |
| And let this rhythm see from Tennessee’s beat gang |
| They turned you out |
| 18 Avenue, South Side, this style was compiled |
| A reminder — what you facing is simply bonafide Southern pride |
| Hails from Jacksonville, Florida, to Douglas, Georgia, to Birmingham, Alabama |
| Now Deville I reside |
| Some may say this style is simplistic; |
| they got it twisted, they missed it |
| Though they may dis it, there’s millions in ghettos listening |
| Tasting my vocal mystic, my flavours come in linguistics |
| My last part of a song ya’ll might find odd |
| I’m here under the assumption that some of y’all might find God |
| That’s the only reason Grits loads clips and shoot verses: to further the |
| kingdom and give the ode |
| You guys in hearses |
| Shot breeze, now outing thousand five from the beginning |
| The beat will fade out, but first you’ll hear it thinning |
| Complete thought is needed to follow this mental poetry |
| Three dimensional images appeal close to spiritually if you’re hearing me, |
| not with your ears but in your heart |
| Make connections with proper grounding, your chest is pounding from these |
| fragmentated-sounding, compound, round elements |
| Natural-born thrillers wrought in Oliver Stone flicks |