Joe Metro Lyrics
| Song | Joe Metro |
| Artist | Blue Scholars |
| Album | Bayani |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Geologic, Mohajerjasbi ... | |
| I reach beneath the skin of the street with each step | |
| Walking closer to my final destination of death | |
| When I'm laying to rest I'm only saving my breath | |
| The Northwest fills the lungs heals the pain in my chest | |
| Take six quarters out of the pocket and drop it in the box | |
| Hop the 48 off to pay homage | |
| It stops often, I jot my observations | |
| Watching, citizens walking off of the Joe Metropolitan | |
| (Yeah) proletarians and wayward sons with old Filipino men speaking in they native tongue | |
| And the day has just begun | |
| Greeted by the scent of a bum smelling something like beer, barf, and dung (ugh) | |
| A brother into prose in the back all alone marinating in a pair of half broken headphones | |
| Mumbling rhymes, same time begin to pen mine | |
| Appreciating God's design | |
| Rewind sister, reminds me of a smile in the back of my memory | |
| Wonder if I see her again, will she remember me? | |
| I'm not trying to holler, I swear | |
| I'm just weary of the way we hop a ride and just sit there and stare | |
| Prepare for my 9 o'clock work meeting | |
| A couple pale folk slide right by with no greeting | |
| But the people with my phenotype follow with a head nod up (what up) | |
| 'Cause we acknowledge that this shit fucked up | |
| North of Martin Luther King, a straight war zone detours through the concrete cranes and bulldozers | |
| No the hill is not over, still, every block got a coffee shop it's overkill | |
| Focus know the deal, | |
| Dope to see Khalil back, the medicine is good again | |
| The feeling of leaving and coming back to your 'hood again is priceless | |
| I write this, our lives are in crisis | |
| Most talk but don't walk the path of the righteous | |
| Despite this, I measure each step | |
| Walking closer to my final destination of death | |
| When I'm laying to rest I'm only saving my breath | |
| The Northwest fill the lungs heals the pain in my chest | |
| Clutch the moment, a transfer in my hands | |
| Still listening, looking out the window to the gold and the green | |
| And the sun might be shining but it's colder than it seems | |
| 'Cause the weather's dialectical there's no in between | |
| In walks an old soul, a first nation native cat, chiseled like a totem pole | |
| No words, as he stands and looks over us | |
| He gets off and says, "Have a good day, you foreigners" | |
| I, crack a smile one time for the acknowledgment | |
| Northbound, now we start to pick up more college kids | |
| They try to study on the ride | |
| To make up for the fact that they probably kicked it hard last night | |
| And I ponder if it's time to save up and get a car | |
| And pay for the gas that we're taking from the war (no) | |
| I'd miss all the colorful faces, the places, and spaces | |
| I've embraced with the faith that I could rest and raise kids here | |
| Even with these cats set tripping | |
| Bringing '95 back again, same old conditions | |
| From Reagan, to Bush, to Clinton, to Bush the second | |
| No matter the neighborhood in the city you repping | |
| It's getting serious ya'll you can even hear the rebel call | |
| Getting off, leaving hella pieces on the walls | |
| Seen it all sitting sideways with my townmates | |
| Only place left where majority is brown-faced | |
| Now we headed downtown to trade our labor for cash | |
| I thank the navigator once and walk fast | |
| I walk past the next round of cats to jump on it | |
| Locked in deep thought, we ride around in silence | |
| And cross Rizal Bridge | |
| I watch each step | |
| Walking closer to my final destination of death | |
| When I'm laying to rest I'm only saving my breath | |
| The Northwest fills the lungs heals the pain in my chest | |
| I remain blessed, stepping on rain with each step | |
| Eyes heavy from the lack of the cousin of death | |
| When I'm laying to rest I'm only saving my breath | |
| The northwest fills the lungs ya'll, you know the rest | |
| You know the rest (you know the rest), you know the rest (you know the rest) | |
| It's like that ya'll, that ya'll | |
| It's like that ya'll, that ya'll | |
| And that's all |
| zuo qu : Geologic, Mohajerjasbi ... | |
| I reach beneath the skin of the street with each step | |
| Walking closer to my final destination of death | |
| When I' m laying to rest I' m only saving my breath | |
| The Northwest fills the lungs heals the pain in my chest | |
| Take six quarters out of the pocket and drop it in the box | |
| Hop the 48 off to pay homage | |
| It stops often, I jot my observations | |
| Watching, citizens walking off of the Joe Metropolitan | |
| Yeah proletarians and wayward sons with old Filipino men speaking in they native tongue | |
| And the day has just begun | |
| Greeted by the scent of a bum smelling something like beer, barf, and dung ugh | |
| A brother into prose in the back all alone marinating in a pair of half broken headphones | |
| Mumbling rhymes, same time begin to pen mine | |
| Appreciating God' s design | |
| Rewind sister, reminds me of a smile in the back of my memory | |
| Wonder if I see her again, will she remember me? | |
| I' m not trying to holler, I swear | |
| I' m just weary of the way we hop a ride and just sit there and stare | |
| Prepare for my 9 o' clock work meeting | |
| A couple pale folk slide right by with no greeting | |
| But the people with my phenotype follow with a head nod up what up | |
| ' Cause we acknowledge that this shit fucked up | |
| North of Martin Luther King, a straight war zone detours through the concrete cranes and bulldozers | |
| No the hill is not over, still, every block got a coffee shop it' s overkill | |
| Focus know the deal, | |
| Dope to see Khalil back, the medicine is good again | |
| The feeling of leaving and coming back to your ' hood again is priceless | |
| I write this, our lives are in crisis | |
| Most talk but don' t walk the path of the righteous | |
| Despite this, I measure each step | |
| Walking closer to my final destination of death | |
| When I' m laying to rest I' m only saving my breath | |
| The Northwest fill the lungs heals the pain in my chest | |
| Clutch the moment, a transfer in my hands | |
| Still listening, looking out the window to the gold and the green | |
| And the sun might be shining but it' s colder than it seems | |
| ' Cause the weather' s dialectical there' s no in between | |
| In walks an old soul, a first nation native cat, chiseled like a totem pole | |
| No words, as he stands and looks over us | |
| He gets off and says, " Have a good day, you foreigners" | |
| I, crack a smile one time for the acknowledgment | |
| Northbound, now we start to pick up more college kids | |
| They try to study on the ride | |
| To make up for the fact that they probably kicked it hard last night | |
| And I ponder if it' s time to save up and get a car | |
| And pay for the gas that we' re taking from the war no | |
| I' d miss all the colorful faces, the places, and spaces | |
| I' ve embraced with the faith that I could rest and raise kids here | |
| Even with these cats set tripping | |
| Bringing ' 95 back again, same old conditions | |
| From Reagan, to Bush, to Clinton, to Bush the second | |
| No matter the neighborhood in the city you repping | |
| It' s getting serious ya' ll you can even hear the rebel call | |
| Getting off, leaving hella pieces on the walls | |
| Seen it all sitting sideways with my townmates | |
| Only place left where majority is brownfaced | |
| Now we headed downtown to trade our labor for cash | |
| I thank the navigator once and walk fast | |
| I walk past the next round of cats to jump on it | |
| Locked in deep thought, we ride around in silence | |
| And cross Rizal Bridge | |
| I watch each step | |
| Walking closer to my final destination of death | |
| When I' m laying to rest I' m only saving my breath | |
| The Northwest fills the lungs heals the pain in my chest | |
| I remain blessed, stepping on rain with each step | |
| Eyes heavy from the lack of the cousin of death | |
| When I' m laying to rest I' m only saving my breath | |
| The northwest fills the lungs ya' ll, you know the rest | |
| You know the rest you know the rest, you know the rest you know the rest | |
| It' s like that ya' ll, that ya' ll | |
| It' s like that ya' ll, that ya' ll | |
| And that' s all |
| zuò qǔ : Geologic, Mohajerjasbi ... | |
| I reach beneath the skin of the street with each step | |
| Walking closer to my final destination of death | |
| When I' m laying to rest I' m only saving my breath | |
| The Northwest fills the lungs heals the pain in my chest | |
| Take six quarters out of the pocket and drop it in the box | |
| Hop the 48 off to pay homage | |
| It stops often, I jot my observations | |
| Watching, citizens walking off of the Joe Metropolitan | |
| Yeah proletarians and wayward sons with old Filipino men speaking in they native tongue | |
| And the day has just begun | |
| Greeted by the scent of a bum smelling something like beer, barf, and dung ugh | |
| A brother into prose in the back all alone marinating in a pair of half broken headphones | |
| Mumbling rhymes, same time begin to pen mine | |
| Appreciating God' s design | |
| Rewind sister, reminds me of a smile in the back of my memory | |
| Wonder if I see her again, will she remember me? | |
| I' m not trying to holler, I swear | |
| I' m just weary of the way we hop a ride and just sit there and stare | |
| Prepare for my 9 o' clock work meeting | |
| A couple pale folk slide right by with no greeting | |
| But the people with my phenotype follow with a head nod up what up | |
| ' Cause we acknowledge that this shit fucked up | |
| North of Martin Luther King, a straight war zone detours through the concrete cranes and bulldozers | |
| No the hill is not over, still, every block got a coffee shop it' s overkill | |
| Focus know the deal, | |
| Dope to see Khalil back, the medicine is good again | |
| The feeling of leaving and coming back to your ' hood again is priceless | |
| I write this, our lives are in crisis | |
| Most talk but don' t walk the path of the righteous | |
| Despite this, I measure each step | |
| Walking closer to my final destination of death | |
| When I' m laying to rest I' m only saving my breath | |
| The Northwest fill the lungs heals the pain in my chest | |
| Clutch the moment, a transfer in my hands | |
| Still listening, looking out the window to the gold and the green | |
| And the sun might be shining but it' s colder than it seems | |
| ' Cause the weather' s dialectical there' s no in between | |
| In walks an old soul, a first nation native cat, chiseled like a totem pole | |
| No words, as he stands and looks over us | |
| He gets off and says, " Have a good day, you foreigners" | |
| I, crack a smile one time for the acknowledgment | |
| Northbound, now we start to pick up more college kids | |
| They try to study on the ride | |
| To make up for the fact that they probably kicked it hard last night | |
| And I ponder if it' s time to save up and get a car | |
| And pay for the gas that we' re taking from the war no | |
| I' d miss all the colorful faces, the places, and spaces | |
| I' ve embraced with the faith that I could rest and raise kids here | |
| Even with these cats set tripping | |
| Bringing ' 95 back again, same old conditions | |
| From Reagan, to Bush, to Clinton, to Bush the second | |
| No matter the neighborhood in the city you repping | |
| It' s getting serious ya' ll you can even hear the rebel call | |
| Getting off, leaving hella pieces on the walls | |
| Seen it all sitting sideways with my townmates | |
| Only place left where majority is brownfaced | |
| Now we headed downtown to trade our labor for cash | |
| I thank the navigator once and walk fast | |
| I walk past the next round of cats to jump on it | |
| Locked in deep thought, we ride around in silence | |
| And cross Rizal Bridge | |
| I watch each step | |
| Walking closer to my final destination of death | |
| When I' m laying to rest I' m only saving my breath | |
| The Northwest fills the lungs heals the pain in my chest | |
| I remain blessed, stepping on rain with each step | |
| Eyes heavy from the lack of the cousin of death | |
| When I' m laying to rest I' m only saving my breath | |
| The northwest fills the lungs ya' ll, you know the rest | |
| You know the rest you know the rest, you know the rest you know the rest | |
| It' s like that ya' ll, that ya' ll | |
| It' s like that ya' ll, that ya' ll | |
| And that' s all |
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