Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song DNA, artist - The Procussions. Album song The Procussions, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 15.09.2013
Record label: The Procussions
Song language: English
DNA |
Stro Elliot |
There I was about less than a year old |
According to the story that my mother told |
She couldn’t get her little boy to sleep |
Till my father put that Ronnie Laws record on repeat |
The beginning of a love affair that I chose |
To keep hidden till my grandfather exposed |
The love letters he would find every week |
In a laugh, in a dance, in a nod to the beat |
Yup, this one is a leader |
The 1st chair drummer tri-toms with the feet up |
Somebody told me bout a rap song turn the beat up |
I’ma need her, that Baum Applebaum that Bonita |
The lunchroom table got applause, and the teacher in the hall |
Made a call saying, «ya'll need to meet up» |
We all got together in the Fall Pangaea |
It all fell apart when the summertime freed up |
The otherwise dedicated guys from the lunch line |
Started looking at me like naw nevermind |
Well that’s it, can’t perform without a line-up |
My brother telling me that I should still sign up |
He put his money on a studio recording |
Back then so important, even though we didn’t know it then |
So hey brother, when that child starts yawning |
I’ma play a lullaby and put them headphones on him |
Mr. J. Medeiros |
Ain’t had a dime at the month of nine |
In my mind I see my Mom when I hunt for lines |
Punching time at a Gessi’s at a time when them penny’s |
Combined don’t add much to a family of five |
Said I was barely alive had to burry the knives cut me out |
Whatchu know about carrying lives |
Out of doubt and needing chances |
Ain’t seeing advances my Parents stance was these stamps ain’t the answer |
Momma braved through it but her head was pained after |
Got a brain tumor but they said it ain’t cancer |
Father gave to us the Word obey master |
Honesty and truth are the words that came after |
Honor for the troops he’s a military man |
Taught the skill of every hand must be paid for, crafted |
It’s in my name why the fame ain’t matter |
It’s a family thing being a day old rapper |
It’s the hands that it brings like the Saints in old chapters |
Together in sync like the paintings in old chapels |
Press on the ink I’m playing these old samples |
Blessings that link old days to new sad ones |
Happy to have them saving my thoughts |
From the day that they bought that album and gave me that box |
I was playing the King of Rock like the king of the block |
Not knowing they had to save for the things that I got |