Lyrics Decisions - Markis Precise, Locksmith

Decisions

That’s what I’m talking about
This is what I’m talk-- This is hip-hop
Locksmith in the buildling
I told y’all
I got you stuck off the realness
I spit nothing but street
Step to this, you’re good as gone, word is bond
'Cause I don’t need gimmicks
I got you stuck off the realness
You better ask somebody
Word is bond, I go on and on
Locksmith
Look
Young fella, umbrella
Locked in his closet so the rain comes hella
Harsher than expected, neglected, he’s got a chipped shoulder
His big brother is locked up and he’s not sober
Started smoking at age ten, sipping at thirteen
It’s hard to admit, but he’s a hurt teen
He’s hurting but he buries it in aggression
He started rapping, that’s the natural progression
It’s more about the melodies and less about the lyrics
The content, drug, money, and bitches
The flow never switches, the beat never falters
He’s got a passion like the preacher at the altar
Stealing from his mother, she barely pays the rent
And the church wanna take ten percent?
Community division, and now he’s faced with decisions, yeah
From the womb to the tomb
Cradle to the grave, we sing along and pray
From the street to the pavement
Block to the burrow, nothing is that thorough
From the womb to the tomb
Cradle to the grave, we sing along and pray
From block to the burrow, ain’t nothing now thorough
Now he’s running the street with his feet planted firmly
On the pavement, every day in engagement
With a rival turf, he’s searching to find a lick
Steady dropping songs, hoping one can stick
Hoping one’s a hit so he’s flooding his SoundCloud
Purple drank and dank sprinkles his sound now
Straight from the medicine bottle
'Cause he’s living with his girl so they constantly squabble
From the trap to the lab, then back to the trap
He’s hustling, but he tells everybody he raps
And he only sells pills so he can pay the bills
Plus he’s dealing with all of his family’s ills
And it’s still not enough where he can afford pampers
And pay for studio time, what’s the answer
And his little girl is growing, not to mention
So he’s faced with decision, yeah
From the womb to the tomb
Cradle to the grave, we sing along and pray
From the street to the pavement
Block to the burrow, nothing is that thorough
From the womb to the tomb
Cradle to the grave, we sing along and pray
From block to the burrow, ain’t nothing now thorough
I got you stuck off the realness
I spit nothing but street
The time is now for me to shine
'Cause I don’t need gimmicks
I got you stuck off the realness
Step to this, you’re good as gone, word is bond
So hear me out one time, you gots to be yourself
Word is bond, I go on and on