Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Magna Carta, artist - Melanin 9. Album song Magna Carta, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 02.12.2012
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Red Snow
Song language: English
Magna Carta |
Slugs burn cops swerve bust the mossberg |
Big drug firms bust with bugs on they lock turns |
Shots burn in a black hole |
Adolescent tadpoles |
Shattered homes metallic ropes |
Seven carat evangelist quotes |
Hang from mechanics for coke and blow hammers |
Broken banisters snapped from addicts hanging from their own fabric |
I hold the palette with coloured notes composed through a soulless ballad |
Resonating on a ferocious planet |
I pose for cameras with ex-felons using hands as weapons |
Tattered emblems pictures |
Their flesh is a street canvas for scriptures |
Crucifixes cover bullet wounds where loose clips hit |
He told me every war lies within a weightless tear |
Pictures on his room of an ancient spear |
Blowing haze thinking of escaping here |
He made me think about the legacy left |
In lost African soils from the adversaries of death |
From the slums of ///////// kids with guns spray with accurate aim |
Paralysed within the bowel of hate |
Child trafficking victims used as blueprints for elusive systems |
There’s truth in wisdom |
Brothers refuse to speak |
Still claiming they repute with peace |
Pollute the streets bombs tear flesh pigment |
Where corporates invest millions |
With no-one to protest the killings |
Souls alleviate from the vessels of feelings |
Celestial beginnings arranged in cycles |
Which just percolates on wisdom’s wave tidal |
In the shadows of slave tribals |
Skyscraper night views of estate lights flicker like constellation gate lines |
where shapes bind |
Beneath the bathed shaded sky |
I watched a teenage die from a blade shaped with a wood grain vine |
Son of a Sheikh who prayed eight times |
Saw landscapes with sand caves where Allah’s carriage awaits |
To take us from this vast Vatican state |
A marked pattern in space |
The last chapter of God’s rapture relates |
Like a collage captured on my page |
Ink patches of six raps from a brick stack flipped on a split axis |
The strip’s a vicious magnet shots lick off lit lab sticks from gang hits six |
hit Dan in his gland pit |
His hands sit horizontal like Sanskrit |
With rooms tailored from the fresh holes of hell’s vanquish |