Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Navajo Rugs, artist - Stalley. Album song Ohio, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 26.10.2014
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Maybach
Song language: English
Navajo Rugs |
Moscan slippers dreaming through this peace pipe |
Praying in the dark hoping that I see light |
Trynna stay sharp with a dark vision |
Gotta couple heathens with me trynna bombard the system |
My man just went to jail and brought a gun charge with him |
On top of that other felonies |
I told him hold his head I’ll make sure he lives through these melodies |
I hate to see him trapped, wish these raps could just set him free |
Whoever thought selling heart would get you seventeen, that’s seventeen |
I mean yesterday was everything if there’s no hope for tomorrow |
And money ain’t everything, I can go broke tomorrow |
Sometimes I find happiness in a broke down cigar |
In an isolated room on this Navajo wall |
Mind drifting, smoke disappearing through the wall |
I hear the loud voices, that’s my homies calling |
Open up the windows, let the angels fall in |
As I bob and weave between stars |
Learn and dream between Mars |
When words are weaved, pictures are painted |
Like Navajo Rugs or woven blankets |
Got so much on my mind, all these thoughts weaving in and out created design |
So intricate like hand spun rugs |
They say they talking outside |
But I hear no love |
I feel the shots in my back |
But there’s no slugs |
I brush the dirt off my shoulders |
Wipe away all the mug that’s been slung |
They say the sword ain’t as mighty as the tongue |
The horns get the attention |
But the war starts with the drum |
808s and low ends beating on my chest like King Kong |
Gorilla warfare, the force here |
You could feel it in the song |
All the warrior in this gone |
I sip Indian style wrapped' in blankets |
Smokin' on the bong, trynna find my inner peace |
Jugglin' stone, never take it for granted, what the struggle is for |
Cuz through that dark hole life is beautiful, like emeralds and gold |
There’s diamonds in the dirt, you just gotta dig through some coal |
I woke up among the confused, but yawning |
The bloodstream came to collect dues this morning |
For all the signs we drop, the parachute supplies |
Are limited, coated in images |
Yet the code of the streets leaves our thoughts with no access |
The revenue of colour, all reduced to a blackness |
But aside the thought, I can find the calm |
That’s why we close our eyes to concentrate |
The cons debate, against the pros talking first degree |
Murder on the clock, they got time to kill |
I’m intricate to be up in it |
So I defend every minute, cons hoping for dimes to deal |
Perimeters occupied by a few chosen |
To take heed to the fact a few in here are posin' |
On the laws of lies, attracted to the warm like wool |
But don’t let it get pulled over your eyes |
Oh, lord |