Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Short Race, artist - GZA/Genius. Album song The Pro Tools Instrumentals, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 16.03.2009
Record label: Babygrande
Song language: English
Short Race |
He’s running in a short race, shoelace untied |
Head down, facial expression he can’t hide |
Kid with no direction, seems confused |
A victim who spent years, being abused |
His moms a drug addict, she has a bug habit |
Was a seven day event, since she celebrated the Sabbath |
But she back slid, or that’s what the crack did |
She used to shoot up, under her sleeves, the track hid |
A long time ago, the father left the picture |
And as time went on, he was erased from the scripture |
The son, he don’t have much to treasure |
And these kids that be getting on him, they do it for pleasure |
Demons are gradually growing inside him |
Way before he ever knew the courts would divide him |
A wall around himself had became a shell |
Was a whole new person, by the time the bricks fell |
It’s a short race, duck the court dates |
The pork gave chase, we had to walk straight |
You know the forte, nigga it’s a portrait |
Or should I say a poor trait |
You want to store very short cake |
Estate, behind the gate |
N.Y. State, why wait? |
You trying to get paid by the lake |
In each state, and do the shit at high pace |
Under the dirt, there was nothing left but bones |
A lot of tall grass around his tombstone |
His mother left alone, her heart felt sorrow |
No time to play with the precious time we borrow |
They live next door, but he was worlds away |
In reality, but such a high price to pay |
He was easy to recognize from his dress code |
Nothing but a firework about to explode |
A short fuse, who was bound to lose in the struggle |
His grandparents went through a great deal of trouble |
To keep him out of jail, they even put they house on sale |
To post bail, but the kid still failed |
I remember when he called collect from behind bars |
Suffering from two injuries and nine scars |
He said he’d give anything to be out the pen |
But it would be his permanent home until the end |
Wait, I got to get mines |
With a side of French fries, not kid sized |
Sixes fives, I give off a pimp’s vibe |
Is it the vines? |
Watch like a sitcom |
Throwing rocks with my pitching arm |
More bricks than when the Knicks is on, I’m sitting on |
Shitting on your boss, been written off |
Shots I’m licking off, the top like a different source |
Ripping this raw like a kitchen chore |
That’s a block not chicken broth |
Hold the pot with your mittens on |
Dicks kicking in the door, and went to pick me off like a lintball |
Jumped out the fifth floor it’s a pit fall |
When I hit the lawn, shit it fell like a jigsaw |
Rather get hit at the board, then to get tossed |
Went to court, got shipped off like a brick of soft |