| Yeah… yeah…
|
| Yeah… Hell Razah… a/k/a… the Renaissance Child
|
| Razah Rubies, the Rabbi
|
| I wanna give a special thanks to everybody out there
|
| That bout the album, you know, I appreciate that
|
| For all the love and the support and everything, knowImean?
|
| Yeah, wings up, throw ya M’s in the air, let’s go
|
| I’m bout that jackpot-jackpot, keeping my gat cocked
|
| Still Red Hook like the G train, last stop
|
| Where black cops take, a percentage from crack spots
|
| Where fans online like I invented the laptop
|
| My black godfather to match my black revolver
|
| With bullets that’ll tear through your vest and body armor
|
| Get turned into martyrs and buried at funeral parlors
|
| And covered up with make-up, keep, fucking our cake up
|
| Your moms’ll be begging the lord for you to wake up
|
| Like Harry Melvin and the Blue Notes, I’ll give you two pokes
|
| Of gun smoke, from my toast, you get too close
|
| This is BK, home of the bosses and kidnappers
|
| Where ice like igloo, picks cold as Alaska
|
| I spit that emerald, saphire and jasper
|
| I’m where the coke so white they call it Casper
|
| And know all the drug kingpins became rappers
|
| And labels wanna buy out artists to keep they masters
|
| What’s a royalty point with no loyalty
|
| With CEO’s wiping they nose, sniffing ya budget up
|
| And tell you that you need more scams to bring your numbers up
|
| It’s all recoupable, from your birth to your funeral
|
| Streets a musical, pay your debts or they suing you
|
| Back at shooting you, it’s whatever’s more suitable…
|
| I wanna thank all my fans, for they love and support
|
| Because it wouldn’t be me without no records you bought
|
| I had to bring it back raw for the streets of New York
|
| And leave something for these critics and these haters to talk
|
| Am I a problem? |
| A thorn in your side, a suicidal bomb threat
|
| Every morning you rise, and stored in your drive
|
| And programmed to open your mind, I kosher the rhyme
|
| And pray it like a ghetto Rabbi, that stay on the grind
|
| Before any label can sign, I’m doing numbers online
|
| Matter fact, independently fine
|
| Get off of my vine, and go find a mountain to climb
|
| I’m where crime ain’t illegal, with paid bills to feed you
|
| And jars be firing, we, hire those people
|
| Be stuck with the choice of the lesser of two evils
|
| I’m camouflage, you know, I blend with the amazon
|
| Project apartments, turn to pentagons
|
| My sixteen bars, they study in synagogues
|
| Made her shuffle tarot cards, and search for other Gods
|
| It’s odd, but I’m the youngest nigga, ill, that’s far
|
| Cuz I ain’t try’nna be Jay, Pac, Nas or Biggie Smalls
|
| Keep my currency flowing like Niagera Falls
|
| Get it cracking like the Berlin Wall, you hear the Maccabee role call
|
| Bullets travel in your like pinball
|
| I’m banksta, all about deposits and withdrawals
|
| A Fistful of Dollars, I advise you to get yours…
|
| Yo count your money, man… you got it? |
| A hundred thousand
|
| Take that money (two hundred thousand) and go break bread with ya niggas, man
|
| Three hundred thousand, you good, you good
|
| And teach 'em, all the same thing, no doubt son, yeah, we all leaders
|
| We gon' do it like this… Razah a/k/a the Renaissance Child
|
| I’d like to give a special thanks to the Most High
|
| For waking me up this morning, for making everything real, word up
|
| I’m thankful for the simple things in life, knowhatimean
|
| I’m thankful for being able to see out of my two eyes right now
|
| Hear out of both of my ears… both of them. |
| word up, I love ya’ll, man
|
| Good looking for supporting the album too, man… |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Thankful, artist - Hell Razah. Album song Renaissance Child, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп