Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Til the World Blows Up, artist - Vakill. Album song The Darkest Cloud Instrumentals, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 21.11.2011
Record label: Molemen
Song language: English
Til the World Blows Up |
If scars was tattoos with better stories |
So much trauma scribed on my melon mob you liable to find tribal design tumors |
That contain best selling novels, so much pain cursed my adolescence |
That I can count my outer blessings on one hand |
I was shook to the bone when informed of the three slugs you took to the dome |
Just slammed and broke the hook to the phone |
Teared up and let a couple trickle |
Before retaliation could start cops knocked him and slammed him with a double |
nickel |
Twelve years later stil not complacent tools |
I cock I’m pacing impatiently awaiting to snap off for obvious reasons |
Grew up with G’s who’s hobby is squeezing, hell probably is freezing |
Peep said it’d be a cold day before we part |
Yeah you prone to violence, just not to start provoking acts |
You was smarter folks than that, especially to lose your life |
Over a Starter coat and hat, I’m stil heated so what |
Your pain is my pain, until the world blows up |
(Til the world blow up) I remain the same no matter life’s obstacles |
(Til the world blow up) I will shine for us all if it’s quite possible |
Til God calls me home and the caskets closed |
And no longer can serenade my dogs with these classic flows |
We were both raised studying rhymes and scriptures and the street rules to the |
game |
And the game deeply embeds and tarnished jewels on your brain |
The ghetto reflects us, from doo-rags to school metal detectors |
To earning what you rightfully deserve is irrelevant |
Cause now we only settle for extras, if not then jumped up charging |
Got affiliates that shot at slumped up sergeants |
Just to avoid trumped up charges, kept my head stern |
Focused on these bars when you was knocked in arrest burned from ??? |
Funerals became annual, we all studied from the same rule book |
And stil lost numerous to the game’s manual |
Supreme has the power, any dirt when added up |
And multiplied by 7 equals the Grapes of Wrath is sour |
For all I know you might hate me, cause I ain’t been able to write |
Or send you a kite lately Just getting my mind right |
So I can walk through this life straightly |
And live see my little girl grow up |
But you stil my dog until the world blow up |
Until I see if the price of the happiness your deserve is cheap |
As long as you embed these words deep |
And can cinematically see the world from a worm’s eye view at a bird’s peak |
Life occurs blurred, bleak sometimes but regardless of how sour the Kool-Aid is |
though |
It could stil be stirred sweet, there ain’t no guarantees |
Except that them taxes in a world that attacks tactless |
But I’mma get full access to its axis |
And take the weight of the world off your shoulders and put it on my back like |
atlas |
The incompatibleness of me and your moms |
Is something that we deny greatly, we ain’t eye to eye lately |
The concept of not being there to guide you through life safely |
Is the reason me, myself, and I hate me irately |
We love each other but after mating the result is the pitas of a queen stinger |
And stil our dear relationship goes swing slinger |
Before death had a chance to do us part |
Fate had flipped us off with the ring finger |
And that’s the reason deaths celebrated and birth’s mourned |
But I’mma always love you first born |
From diapers until you casket bound with black skirt on |
Til the world in your beautiful eyes stops spinning and blows up and the earths |
gone |