Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Street Corner, artist - Masta Killa.
Date of issue: 31.12.2005
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Street Corner |
Looking on various street corners |
I’m sure you’ve seen it yourself |
Standing on the corner, is an alleged brother |
Dressed in blue, or green, red and black |
And starting the news, that the revolution is coming |
And you better get ready, sort of like (I feel you, son) |
The end of the world is coming, unfortunately (I got you, though) |
The world is just gonna drag on and on (I know how it is) |
And we have a poem that we’ve written particularly (I said, I know how it is) |
For the brothers on the street corners |
When the revolution come, you can see me on the front line |
Firing my gun, standing right beside my son |
If I go, it’s understood that I stood for something |
When my whole life, they told me, I was good for nothing |
I was raised by the stray dogs, blazed off, layed off |
Breaking laws, graveyard shifting every day war |
Focus now, notice how, things change, soldier |
I remain the same, I’m older now, I embrace the pain |
I blame the struggle, nearly drove me insane |
Thought I lost my head, till my brethren told me the same |
No tears for the reaper, I’ve buried bout a thousand |
In graffiti, «rest in peace» sprayed off throughout the housing |
I tried to stay civilized, the hood’s a prison inside |
The only difference is the doors don’t slide |
Still we trapped in the animal cage, cause we got animal ways |
So we react, with the animal rage |
And my section’s real, weapons peel, cheddar’s the deal |
Seen the depths of hell, now I stare, death in the grill |
From the slave ships, to today’s bricks, same shit |
I’m awake, to the wickedness, and one, with the pavement |
The all great mind stays divine, my hands remain deadly |
We shine without the hung jewelry, produce light |
That’ll travel through mics, now as the time riping |
We took words that we nourishing, encouraging |
A nation to awaken, those who were sleeping |
Can you conceive the thought? |
Transatlantic import |
Slave and bought, secret relations between blacks and Jews |
Might set a fuse off in the head |
Many dead lynch hung, swung from trees |
Brothers in the struggle together, eat from one pot |
Hold each other down to the sneaker |
Nothing come between us |
Fast money and chicks, did it to the best of cliques |
It’s sickening… huh |
It’s me and you son, forever in the struggle |
No doubt, we hustle, survival is the motto |
Will you soon follow, a better tomorrow |
…For a better tomorrow |
It’s me and you son, forever in the struggle |
No doubt, we hustle, survival is the motto |
Will you soon follow, a better tomorrow |
…For a better tomorrow |
I catch a few flashbacks about, going through the struggle |
How we used to make dollars, from all the snow we shoveled |
In a broke neighborhood, where the kids often dream |
About a lavish life, that is mostly seen in the screen |
Where some dreams are quickly cut short, due to gang violence |
From loud guns, that kept witnesses, in deep silence |
Was it bad timing? |
Jealousy from too much shining? |
Or a set up, from a girl that he wined, kept dining |
It’s a known fact, they will attack, cause it’s like that |
And depending on the, kind of impact, that strike back |
In a town where the talk is cheap and, beef is brief |
A mother sobs uncontrollably, and exhibit the grief |
Large holes in the front door, of a housing tenement |
Allows room to retaliate, so conflict is imminent |
This hate in the brain, destroys the cells like cancer |
Even experts are stuck with more questions than answers |