Lyrics Under Pressure - Ricky Fitz, Vanderslice, The Flying Dutchmen

Under Pressure

They’re going on my mind forever
Even when I think I’d never
Get to where I’m going 'cause I
Think it’s a gonna be sweet
This ain’t a game that I’m fightin'
I tell myself just for tryin'
And if you try to stop me, well I’m
Never gonna be free
Tryna stop me’s illogical, the rhyme style’s phenomenal
He write philosophical, this life’s a long obstacle
Right when you move a few steps, they try stoppin' you
Blockin' you, pop at you, whatever’s fucking possible
My man was confused with life, was snatching pocketbooks
To get high, crushing pills, was feeling unstoppable
Until he overdosed, almost died, was in the hospital
On life support, machines breathing for him in constant view
He lived but kept the habit, sniffed and was rollin' Ls
Overdosed again then he died in his holdin' cell
His moms got him tatted on her hand, life’s cold as hell
I cried when I heard that he died, it hit my soul myself
And me, you see whatever your choice is
But the music that I make, you understand that there’s choices
And I’m only one out of a million voices
For me, I’m making sense and the rest are making noises
They’re going on my mind forever
Even when I think I’d never
Get to where I’m going 'cause I
Think it’s a gonna be sweet
This ain’t a game that I’m fightin'
I tell myself just for tryin'
And if you try to stop me, well I’m
Never gonna be free
Jail stories, six by nine, locked down
Celly tripping, strongly advised, I’m piped down
Calm down, motherfucker, punch a hole through your face
On some Demon Knight shit, I can’t afford the case
So I sat back, take a deep breath, threw my brain on ease
The gate popped, feel that day room breeze?
Yo, ox stay running MCs, spades I made
Like ten packs plus the grub I ate last week
Shit is real, native said he threw a man on the books
Family cool, guess they still ride for the boy
Ricky Fitz stay locked by the law, just wanna be free
Yo, how you play your son?
Peep that PX, sheriff
Yo, my MO, burglary, PX, you heard of me
I’m known to snatch safes, when you see me, don’t say a word to me
Silence when Rick’s in the booth, spitting that third degree
Touchdown, Sci home now, yo, God, it’s time to eat
They’re going on my mind forever
Even when I think I’d never
Get to where I’m going 'cause I
Think it’s a gonna be sweet
This ain’t a game that I’m fightin'
I tell myself just for tryin'
And if you try to stop me, well I’m
Never gonna be free
Pressure cooker, the good looker for looking good, look
Shook, you took and we take niggas for looking good
Look like it’s going good in your hood, we poppin' up
Stalking on you wild, these pockets is guapin' up
Who’s cockin' the Glock and mastered the stockin' and poppin' what?
Orville Redenbacher, you’re knockin', pockets is kinda tough
Mines is kinda hurt, gotta find work, grind berserk
Tick tock up on the clock upon the block, slide on work
I’m on some nine to five, five to nine, ten to six penny flip
While shorty at the crib flippin' heavy shit
Nodding off in class from long nights in the lab
A strong slice to the pad got my pen leaking fluid
Staff across the page like sheet music, G clef
Modern street, new shit, 4/4 time signature
Vanderslice, swift beat kick, rhyme prime minister
Standing mic, rip, type sick, my mind sinister
They’re going on my mind forever
Even when I think I’d never
Get to where I’m going 'cause I
Think it’s a gonna be sweet
This ain’t a game that I’m fightin'
I tell myself just for tryin'
And if you try to stop me, well I’m
Never gonna be free