Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Polaroid, artist - Melanin 9. Date of issue: 16.11.2017
Song language: English
Polaroid |
| The finger snaps the frame to the eye a fraction seen |
| The world stops between the lens before we catch the dream |
| From bagging green, breaking down boxes to purchase villas |
| My girl went iller saw my first before she birthed the mirror |
| The kerb with sinners liquor merged beneath the bourbon zipper |
| Feds swerve with clips that burst they wish the purge to kill us |
| Disturbed visions of my vicious art, with precision script the craft |
| Every pixel is a distance image past |
| From dipping class to chopping weights shift in top estates |
| Some adopted Ks clicking Glocks where helicopters chase |
| We fostered hate pocket blades scrape Courvois and haze |
| Want my face to glisten with precision on the frosted chain |
| My (?) became to study gods with the exulted ploy |
| Shops open boys, feds watch like Shoguns poised |
| We swipe for stolen droids vivid like a polaroid |
| Descriptive photos of a violent bipolar boy |
| Now where do I start where do I go |
| They say the images we take steal a piece of our soul |
| She’s pretty in the pictures but inside she’s hollow |
| Look inside and get your third eye lens in control |
| Now where do I start where do I go |
| They say the images we take steal a piece of our soul |
| Dodging the police for the dough in the belly of the beast |
| That we roam got us losing our control |
| The stargazer, Allah script the parchment paper |
| Scarred like (?) dark liquor guava chaser |
| I’m a calm embracer fast in Saddam with geisha |
| Part the glacier masked in the dark Fantasia |
| My arms equator filled with black paints (?) gods |
| Ice planets around my wrist beneath a woven cloth |
| The young disposed inside a spliff before they focus rots |
| Evictions open (?) stick you from ferocious plots |
| I paint spirits with pens spill the ink and leave a print on your lens |
| Split the image with a cynic pretence |
| Stick your bitch with her promiscuous friends |
| Polar boy pics my scripts where the pernicious offend |
| I could vividly blend a cold nexus from my penmanship |
| From these dirty steps where I developed all my negatives |
| Seen through an opaque lens from the age is ten |
| Learn that pictures paint a thousand words when I scrape the pen |
| Now where do I start where do I go |
| They say the images we take steal a piece of our soul |
| She’s pretty in the pictures but inside she’s hollow |
| Look inside and get your third eye lens in control |
| Now where do I start where do I go |
| They say the images we take steal a piece of our soul |
| Dodging the police for the dough in the belly of the beast |
| That we roam got us losing our control |
| Now where do I start where do I go |
| They say the images we take steal a piece of our soul |
| Now where do I start where do I go |
| They say the images we take steal a piece of our soul |