Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Thankful, artist - Shuko. Album song The Foundation, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 13.04.2009
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Coalmine
Song language: English
Thankful |
| Yeah… yeah… |
| Yeah… Hell Razah… a/k/a… the Renaissance Child |
| Razah Rubies, the Rabbi |
| I wanna give a special thanks to everybody out there |
| That bout the album, you know, I appreciate that |
| For all the love and the support and everything, knowImean? |
| Yeah, wings up, throw ya M’s in the air, let’s go |
| I’m bout that jackpot-jackpot, keeping my gat cocked |
| Still Red Hook like the G train, last stop |
| Where black cops take, a percentage from crack spots |
| Where fans online like I invented the laptop |
| My black godfather to match my black revolver |
| With bullets that’ll tear through your vest and body armor |
| Get turned into martyrs and buried at funeral parlors |
| And covered up with make-up, keep, fucking our cake up |
| Your moms’ll be begging the lord for you to wake up |
| Like Harry Melvin and the Blue Notes, I’ll give you two pokes |
| Of gun smoke, from my toast, you get too close |
| This is BK, home of the bosses and kidnappers |
| Where ice like igloo, picks cold as Alaska |
| I spit that emerald, saphire and jasper |
| I’m where the coke so white they call it Casper |
| And know all the drug kingpins became rappers |
| And labels wanna buy out artists to keep they masters |
| What’s a royalty point with no loyalty |
| With CEO’s wiping they nose, sniffing ya budget up |
| And tell you that you need more scams to bring your numbers up |
| It’s all recoupable, from your birth to your funeral |
| Streets a musical, pay your debts or they suing you |
| Back at shooting you, it’s whatever’s more suitable… |
| I wanna thank all my fans, for they love and support |
| Because it wouldn’t be me without no records you bought |
| I had to bring it back raw for the streets of New York |
| And leave something for these critics and these haters to talk |
| Am I a problem? |
| A thorn in your side, a suicidal bomb threat |
| Every morning you rise, and stored in your drive |
| And programmed to open your mind, I kosher the rhyme |
| And pray it like a ghetto Rabbi, that stay on the grind |
| Before any label can sign, I’m doing numbers online |
| Matter fact, independently fine |
| Get off of my vine, and go find a mountain to climb |
| I’m where crime ain’t illegal, with paid bills to feed you |
| And jars be firing, we, hire those people |
| Be stuck with the choice of the lesser of two evils |
| I’m camouflage, you know, I blend with the amazon |
| Project apartments, turn to pentagons |
| My sixteen bars, they study in synagogues |
| Made her shuffle tarot cards, and search for other Gods |
| It’s odd, but I’m the youngest nigga, ill, that’s far |
| Cuz I ain’t try’nna be Jay, Pac, Nas or Biggie Smalls |
| Keep my currency flowing like Niagera Falls |
| Get it cracking like the Berlin Wall, you hear the Maccabee role call |
| Bullets travel in your like pinball |
| I’m banksta, all about deposits and withdrawals |
| A Fistful of Dollars, I advise you to get yours… |
| Yo count your money, man… you got it? |
| A hundred thousand |
| Take that money (two hundred thousand) and go break bread with ya niggas, man |
| Three hundred thousand, you good, you good |
| And teach 'em, all the same thing, no doubt son, yeah, we all leaders |
| We gon' do it like this… Razah a/k/a the Renaissance Child |
| I’d like to give a special thanks to the Most High |
| For waking me up this morning, for making everything real, word up |
| I’m thankful for the simple things in life, knowhatimean |
| I’m thankful for being able to see out of my two eyes right now |
| Hear out of both of my ears… both of them. |
| word up, I love ya’ll, man |
| Good looking for supporting the album too, man… |