Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Palm Sunday, artist - PlaydoughDate of issue: 31.12.2001
Song language: English
Palm Sunday |
| It’s palm Sunday, riding a beat at my feet |
| They’re throwing loose leafs they want me to freak |
| Cuz this week my rhyme’s hot, but 15 minutes is what I’m told |
| Till I drop to the cold so watch it all unfold |
| Like palm sunday |
| I walk lightly, slightly on this path of ink the pen shaft I sink |
| Between the margin with my jargon so they still can’t distinguish |
| The English I broke they’re busy falling from the mic |
| Like a bike that got the spoke tripped up I ripped up |
| The do’s and don’ts breaking every single guideline |
| And left it for them fools stuck on the sideline |
| Thinking they’re butter but they’re only cookie cutters |
| Trying to be down and fit in the mold they’re bought and sold |
| Like some pawnshop gold, I wonder when they’ll learn a lesson |
| Thinking their skills are wrapped up in their possession |
| But the same ice the rock’s the ice they slip in |
| They’re the scratch on hip-hop that got my needle skipping |
| They need to dip in some funds and ones to buy a clue |
| Plus a crew then I’ll rip it on a topic that’s new but |
| Seriously they just got a bad rap literally pitifully |
| Jumping onto a beat they find defeat in the end |
| They’re living pretend my words will descend |
| While my spirit’s heading home you watch it ascend |
| I’m placing tidbits of knowledge in these college rules |
| While you follow jewels and loot with top hats and suit |
| You’re just a prostitute selling your soul for control of the world |
| But what’s it take to realize you made the worst mistake |
| See you can stack material but that ain’t clever |
| There’s only one thing that lasts forever |
| The crowd loved me but now I hear them screaming for Barabbas |
| Yo it must be from the time they caught me rhyming on the Sabbath |
| Man these kids ain’t nothing but some Sadducees and Pharisees |
| Breaking tradition’s obviously grounds for heresy, comparing me |
| To anything they can from wyclef to everlast |
| They must be uncomfortable with the fact I’m in a class of my own |
| With light shown to mainstream but the same thing’s happening there |
| People just love to compare but I care less |
| I’m busy trying to bless the device |
| With words echoing true from b-twice |
| I’m trying to freak the metaphor but more I find myself at war |
| With people supposed to be my family that still ain’t understanding me |
| I plan to be a man fulfilling destiny and stressing me |
| Can’t disguise the fact you’d all be falling off like leprosy |
| Accept you see before you fall off you’ve got to be on |
| You ain’t at emcee status you’ve barely reached the peon |
| Sending in your demos that you did on 4 track and you’re first to call me wack |
| But yo I guess you’ve got your back pack and shell toes |
| With fat laces and a record done by company flow |
| I guess that means you must know |
| Please, you think I base my livelihood off of what you say |
| Or rearrange my word play we can spar and make you call me sensei |
| It’s Sunday and one day I hop you see |
| You can’t live out your mic fantasies through me |