Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Weight, artist - Lucille Crew. Date of issue: 31.12.2014
Song language: English
Weight |
| It’s like the slaves of a million people are in our hands |
| Chains are braided within our skin cause we’re stealing brands |
| Labels resurrected in urban places just to stand |
| Upon the shoulders of man — Atlas without a plan |
| Tasteless yet deep with ink — written in struggles |
| Hustling, labor favors resented pictures of contraband |
| Contrary to popular tales of Wonderland |
| I ain’t seen the chalice or Alice, the Holy Grail’s a sham |
| Is it the fault of ourselves, like in a gerbil wheel? |
| Verbiage and verses make it spin and still we’re standing still |
| And will it kill us -- the blacks, the whites, Koreans, Latinos |
| Whoever can rep the best where the hood runs through? |
| The contradiction of n!@a and yeah I use it to |
| To my demise — a miser who never changes his views |
| Proven that volumes of the truth are catalogued as fiction |
| Caused when they say the «fact will give it back to those who listen |
| Wishing my relevance bettered the better men to be the better man |
| Who never step on Weather-Men who praise the Grand |
| Talking away our obligations just for satiation |
| Placing complacency above what was the height and aim |
| In Our sole reservations- --stuffed ‘em and had ‘em twisted |
| Fist ‘em and fuck ‘em — ditched ‘em. |
| Never sever the quill |
| Shit — it’s my business |
| Never lay in waste to make them shiftless positions |
| Keeping it crucial, sifting heavy, losing trust |
| I need to get it down how to stay up |
| Native son |
| Yeah, Richard was right |
| Get ya' face left tight |
| Place From where pockets tight with the paper ain’t safe right? |
| Premeditated changes the status of a case |
| The onion could mean the ready base |
| Or the the curve of her ass shape |
| Straight lace like fish-scale after razorblades |
| With the majority hoping God will save from fairy tales in a dead man’s grave |
| And it’s Orson Welles — citizen Kane |
| Fiends Philistines at the gate |
| With Popes still burnin' witches at the stake |
| And that’s Sixtus when its Moscow time the arms Invictus |
| Beyond the limits of Lucius trust |
| Mad political they Polly for the interest |
| And still my eyes remain against |
| Sunrise and Mediterranean sunset |
| Holding Me Down… |
| Holding Me Down… |
| And then it’s sunrise |
| And the light kisses ya face |
| You know how it makes |
| You Dig under the covers and grab the pillow case |
| And point and pace, won’t wait |
| And last night date ain’t left smell of sex and after taste |
| Aches for an afterlife like fiends find escape after pipe |
| Sky high in mid air Prepared for the fall |
| At civilization’s dawn |
| No hocus pocus and magic wands |
| Just «NATO» squadrons |
| They Dazzle skylines |
| With drones And napalm son |