Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Fringe, artist - The Procussions. Album song The Procussions, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 15.09.2013
Record label: The Procussions
Song language: English
The Fringe |
| Disillusional fool stuck in menial moonstruck museums |
| Seeing nothing but the back of a tool truck |
| Believing I could fix somethin, gon' get somethin boy now fetch that |
| Cheese on top of that mouse trap, but we ain’t no clown rats |
| We built this city on sound tracks |
| And drive the locomotives around that |
| Promoters and town reps, claim to have a stake in it all yet |
| They only place a stake when the ground’s wet |
| They sit and clap for this custodian rap music |
| And use it for amusement and lack the means to do it |
| In jest, throw a nickel in the hat as a gesture |
| Court of a couple kings showing their rings to jesters |
| And bet money they bleed before they leave get relieved |
| Of these things, out of need not of greed you breed theives |
| And blame us, offering a piece of that fame |
| But, the owners of the masters became us |
| So now what |
| What’s that |
| We want a little |
| They want it all |
| They gonna get it |
| I want a piece of my own, I’m stuck in the middle |
| I want a piece of my own, I’m stuck in the middle |
| What’s that |
| I want a little |
| They got it all |
| I’m gonna get it |
| I got’em stuck off the purchase price |
| Hustling a verse that’s twice that of the worth |
| Of any corny rappers merchandise |
| They outta luck and couldn’t work the dice |
| Bustin' through the surface ice |
| Must’ve been they trusted in the worst advice |
| That folklore the broke where a yoke for |
| That’s choking these throats sore with hope’d for’s |
| Closed doors and glass ceilings |
| Asked to mask feelings |
| With a flask half full of that trash and bad dealings |
| Villains get made when the minimum wage is |
| Lower than the minim for living these days its |
| No wonder why these kids in a daze |
| They out number the rich |
| But on the fringe living criminal ways |
| Not on the hinge where the pendulum sways |
| From these towers |
| These cowards who bleed these hours to feed powers |
| Ain’t a thug I believe in |
| Drug I could breath in |
| Strong enough to beat this love for reason |
| When everything I’ve heard is perverted |
| I preserve my words from absurd and blurred verdicts |
| The curb servants see her skirted inside the moon light |
| Flirting with goons burning spoons |
| See how the fumes bite |
| Streets like a balloon fight |
| Eatin' with two teeth got two blue feet that don’t move right |
| Extortion when rappers glorify this misfortune |
| I abhor the lies that walk the line of distortion |
| Get your check voided paying respects |
| To get you exploited |
| Wept for it they faced death and traded sex for it |
| Explore it see the text get exported |
| See we ignorant no contest or context for it |
| Ignore it |
| Play it loud and vicarious |
| Too important to be proud in all carelessness |
| Some blame rappers but I blame their fans |
| They both making a name off the chains of man |
| What’s that |
| We want a little |
| They want it all |
| They gonna get it |
| I want a piece of my own, I’m stuck in the middle |
| I want a piece of my own, I’m stuck in the middle |
| What’s that |
| I want a little |
| They got it all |
| I’m gonna get it |