Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Highs 2 Lows, artist - Nujabes. Album song Metaphorical Music, in the genre Date of issue: 28.09.2014
Record label: Hydeout
Song language: English
Highs 2 Lows |
| Individual stars float in an ocean of God |
| Rocking a pinky ring of Saturn while I’m visiting Mars |
| Egos bigger than Jupiter are breaking the bars |
| Holding me back down to Earth through physical laws |
| Touching the moon, grace as I ready resume |
| Comets flying through space, bringing possible doom |
| Blocking the Sun, bring a holocaust on the world |
| I’m talking back to Father Time, Mother Earth is my girl |
| I got the wings of angels walking down the valley of death |
| Watching my step ‘cause The Devil’s never one to respect |
| Come correct on the studio track, taking it back |
| To the pen and pad, I blast the original rap |
| Brother on the b-boy tip |
| With Krylon spit, I tag the charts with the graphical hits |
| So who you fucking with? |
| Arm, leg, leg to arm, head |
| Snapping your neck back while you spit out a Pez |
| I be the original son of a bitch, hurting your wrist |
| ‘Cause you spinning my shit so much the needle skip |
| Flip to the rhythm and reminisce |
| Remember the days of '94—hip hop was a gift (OK) |
| Words out of her lips came straight from the heart |
| Never prepackaged or bought for negative thought |
| Peddled to consumers, magazines, and rumors |
| Commercial spots turn real artists to looters |
| Precise rap, rock and roll; |
| Nigga, let’s do this |
| I’ll float through notes, break beats with my maneuvers |
| Yo, regardless, while I be moving swiftly through darkness |
| Plotting, charting my path, I’m running, cutting my losses |
| Stumbling over unknown bumps and complications |
| And tribulations of my life of revelations |
| Speaking to Scorpius making my heart turn to porcelain |
| It used to have a steady beat, now it’s easily broken |
| Mind coasting, train of thought stopped emotions |
| Welling at the core of my being, causing commotion |
| Need to release ‘cause the stress’ll tear me to pieces |
| My love ceases and my thoughts break into leases |
| The height of my life, but the strife making me leave this |
| I can’t beat this, going to God to defeat this |
| Will He help or do I have to do this myself? |
| Alone and confused, the blues burden my health |
| My eyes remain closed ‘cause my highs are lows |
| I’m feeling the blows of rain ‘cause my pain is cold |
| Now who am I? |
| A man, or pawn in life? |
| Living day to day, I pray—am I wrong or right? |
| Losing my mind, so maybe you can help me find |
| The way to go so I can be leaving this pain behind |
| Trying to sleep; |
| «Sleep is the cousin of death» |
| Said a wise man from Queensbridge on beats he blessed (Yeah) |
| Trying to rest; |
| Instead, I rest my head |
| On a pillow of hardships—misery is the bed |
| On my back, I lie. |
| I can see the skies |
| Through the glass ceiling, the reason tears drowning my eyes |
| And I can’t move; |
| grief won’t let me think |
| My soul is dry, I crawl just to take a drink |
| I made you blink, think like invisible man |
| With mechanical hands, trying to reach out to my fans |
| Yo, regardless, while I be moving swiftly through darkness |
| Plotting, charting my path, I’m running, cutting my losses |
| Stumbling over unknown bumps and complications |
| And tribulations of my life of revelations |
| Yo, viscosity of the hidden meaning between my words |
| Thicken the plot—I got hidden rhythms and verse |
| I’m loading a hearse; |
| you biting like a Dracula curse |
| I’m bringing the worst of hurt like a sermon in church |
| Pertaining to you, hurts just to listen to truth |
| So you’d rather listen to lies, so you’re living to lose |
| I’m beginning to win, young man mastering sin |
| Battle within, looking at The Devil and grin |
| I’m flipping the script, walking on a journey and trip |
| On the gurney and missed at the fact that life is a bitch |
| And I’m hating this shit, losing Blood, making me Crip |
| The stakes is high—bet and I lost the grip |
| Searching for bliss with the razor over my wrist |
| Needing a job, but the drug test’s checking my piss |
| I’m looking through a window and seeing Immaculate Conception |
| Reborn, piercing my core with seven swords |
| A knight in a war, looking to the eyes of the lord |
| Calculating, want more, seeing the signs of heaven nevermore |
| The last matador riding a pale horse |
| Losing my course, splitting the hairs, causing divorce |
| Marriage unborn, I havoc in song, I stumbled upon |
| Lost jewels of thought thought to be gone |
| Lost forever, I sever motherfuckers with letters |
| Written in script, forward to the rap that I rip |
| From the top of the lip, make a drink, taking a sip |
| Then I’m gulping the shit, falling deeper in the abyss |