Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Heaven Too, artist - Homeboy Sandman. Album song Hallways, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 08.02.2014
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Stones Throw
Song language: English
Heaven Too |
Ay yo, the concrete labyrinth is keepin' me captive, hyperactive |
I saunter through the cold city, no goals for the progeny, approaching me |
All types of ghosts play me all types of close, I wish that I could light some |
bulbs |
Rollin' on my own like the Elm Street tricyle, my eyes are soaked |
Their eyes are stoned, this is ground zero, I woke up twenty hours ago |
I walk amongst the thousands, that’s always left with miles to go, |
from hovering around limbo |
These browns are broke, and tired of browsing bro |
I barely got the powers to cope |
It’s hard to stomach when it grumbles and it growls are both |
It sound nothing like Al Jarreau |
But there’s a heaven too x2 |
Ay yo, the iron horse weary |
Influencing how its passengers think |
Can lead em to water but can’t make em drink |
It get under your skin, make-up, ink |
Ain’t no lookin' back, what they lookin' at? |
Make 'em blink |
The rise of machines, over hombres, chewing bacon, egg and cheese |
Just yesterday I learned ABCs, my aching knees |
My age increase, I spray Raid and sweep |
The carcases away, as officers do raids and sweeps |
They say that we were kings and queens |
Remind me of the crazy queef |
Sheesh |
Blowin' hot air, I wonder if it’s not fair, it’s always not fair |
Whenever someone’s not there, they only downstairs |
Drawn out without a stencil |
My thoughts shape the canvas like a pencil |
My art is something simple |
Lost in the mental |
A big body of work, nothing simple |
We build pyramids but they keep raiding the temples |
I find myself at the cross lifted in the middle |
Instrumental |
Tryna crack the codes, but it’s all riddles |
You speak of nizzle, get your body riddled sentimental (mm) |
That’s how we send a memo, no subliminals |
Spots shut down, they closing they doors |
Rarely open, forcing the wars (c'mon) |
And it’s poor economics keep us dirty, fuck doin' them chores |
I’m just a made man, I’m not a maid sweepin' the floors |
What we made was a foundation to creep through the walls |
I used to sneak in the store, stash the heat in the drawers |
That was before the tours, just dealing with my hellish moods |
Sometimes it’s hard to see that there’s a heaven too |