Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Sweetest Way to Die, artist - Vakill. Album song The Darkest Cloud Instrumentals, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 21.11.2011
Record label: Molemen
Song language: English
Sweetest Way to Die |
| The summer was 1987 |
| I was king of graff |
| Wild hundreds |
| 119th the ave |
| I had the south locked cleverly |
| I was stocked heavily |
| Shoe polish, Krylon |
| Hello my name is thick as my game was slicker |
| Didn’t need a black book |
| I could lay out a piece off of memory |
| Half hour flat like it was ten of me |
| And still have time to flip my enemies names |
| Upside down |
| If you was toy then that was penalty |
| From petty tags to full blown color crescendos |
| Blackbooks to scratch bombin' the bus window |
| I was addicted |
| But every time I’d stopped those flames rekindled |
| Cuz the fame’s what I was mainly in for |
| One day my niggas gave me info |
| I was number one on the vandalism’s guest list |
| And cops is restless |
| That’s when the phone ring |
| It was five-0 |
| Sorry wrong number |
| Shit it’s about to be a long summer |
| (phone ringing) |
| Vakill: «Damn five-o, shit, I gotta think fast… |
| I gotta get the fuck outta here» |
| Some Ho: «You gonna answer the fucking phone or what?» |
| Vakill: «Naw, don’t touch that shit, it’s bill collector.» |
| The name I made in the streets is now a name |
| Too strong to mention |
| I was drawing the right shit |
| But now I’m drawing the wrong attention |
| It seems my graffiti most flaunted |
| Made me see P. D's most wanted |
| I’m most wanted in particular by this plain clothes cop |
| Named Agorn |
| And writers for niggas he plague on |
| Last year he caught one of my peeps |
| And pushed him off the L platform |
| In front of a train |
| And now his legs gone |
| And I already got two strikes for the same shit |
| Three’s a felony |
| That would make my mothers brain flip |
| In the judges eyes |
| I’m a youth of troubled caliber |
| Fuck community service |
| I’ll do a couple calendars |
| I ain’t built for that |
| I ain’t got that kinda frame god |
| My brain scarred visioning |
| That time behind the same bars |
| Paged Memo ass twice |
| Shit I wish this fool call |
| (Phone rings)"What up VAK?" |
| Meet me at the pool hall |
| Vakill: «Yo call your shot nigga» |
| HOMIE: «I got yellow on the corner dude, whats up with this taggin' bullshit |
| dude?» |
| Vakill: «I'm sayin' man, I ain’t sweatin' that shit, they ain’t gonna catch me |
| alive» |
| Homie: «Dude, you ain’t making no money off of that punk shit dude» |
| Vakill: «It ain’t about the dough, its about hip hop yo, its hip hop» |
| Homie: «Dude your looking like shit with paint chips all over your fucking legs» |
| Vakill: «It's alright though, I’m too clever, they’ll never get me…» |
| Quarter after nine |
| While creepin' home |
| It grabs my mind |
| I’m facing ten years of math combined |
| And guaranteed to serve half the time |
| Thats five years too many |
| For a supposedly graff |
| Design path to crime |
| I need to lay low |
| And what would do me some good |
| Is a couple days of street separation |
| I’m suffering from sleep deprivation |
| Incarcerated nightmares |
| Got me waking up sweatin' |
| In deep perspiration |
| I lit up a bag of boon |
| That’s when it hit me starin' |
| As the cloud shaped weed smoke |
| And the aerosol loomed |
| I’mma do the illest piece |
| Then close every window in the room |
| Till I’m consumed by the aerosol fumes |
| Maybe jail got me suicidal |
| Or maybe this will make me an |
| A underground legend |
| A sewer idol |
| No regrets and no sad goodbyes |
| Shit I’d rather it be this way |
| This was the sweetest way |
| To die… |