Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Rise Above, artist - Statik Selektah. Album song What Goes Around, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 21.08.2014
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Duck Down, Showoff
Song language: English
Rise Above |
Some days |
A change has to got to come |
Got to rise above it all for |
We’ll rise, yea I know |
Its hard to walk these city streets |
Paranoia got the best of the youngin' |
Most of my childhood friends arrested |
Rest of them ducking |
Or doing nothing |
I stay off the blocks we played on |
Adore these tracks, I box daily like Avon |
They running like Omar coming, this ain’t The Wire |
Still cats carry their cannons like Mariah |
I struggle today, then ball tomorrow |
I’m dedicated, the charts is minor |
This minor try son the legislation |
And be above all, F' the world |
I bust off, I see many but compared to less |
I’m so duck |
Grind hard for the bucks |
Like and |
I’m the one hit wonder, you stuck with him |
See get the loot, like its 92' after the Rodney case |
I’m razor sharp on every chain |
But I don’t watch karate tapes |
They looked at me and said, «He little, B, yo he probably based.» |
I spit a verse, they noticed that is not the case |
I’m all they need |
Going all over the globe |
You wouldn’t get far with this rapping is what I was told |
Now I be touching they souls |
Packing up shows with young and the old |
You fiending to roll? |
Stop |
You ain’t see my vision |
Retired from the Bull like Scottie Pippen |
Now I’m in the kitchen cooking up heaters |
On Twitter, followed by leaders |
They watching, birds clocking |
Its my time in this game |
I entered the stage like Black Moon Say |
So get your Smith and Wesson |
And buck a shot for this youngin' thats reppin' |
8 seconds is lessen by this adolescent |
I got that organic, alienated real |
For all planets |
They tried to stop what made sense for dollar flow |
Added still a cat padding like Calicoe |
I keep it original, dog, strictly for the city |
Still trying make more bands than P. Diddy |
But I ain’t with the faking, you better recognize |
Like Sam Sneed, without a doubt I am what y’all need |
So check your need |
Ugh huh… you already… |
Inner stardom’s never born |
Unless its scorned by every lesson in disguise |
With digesting worthy progressive verses numbers in the pies |
Its only three eyes on the prize possession |
Tell em' niggas better hol' they weapons |
In y’all sections for this rap precinct that won’t witness protection |
Opening sentences hoping these sentences could block cells |
On Brooklyn blocks well |
'Till they can’t reach him like the top shelf |
Cause every letter bound to hit em with a hot spell |
On the dot, until its red hot |
And every art already touch arteries till' tec’s drops |
That IllMindedChild pop outta tracks until your neck pop |
Commitment to the page is on stage in limited wedlock |
And the knots is tied to get more than 2 Chainz just for your dreadlock |
And every flame regains 'till your memory set up headlocks |
And its gone… |