| Song | scarred lungs vol.1 & 2 |
| Artist | MIKE |
| Album | tears of joy |
| 作词 : Michael Jordan Bonema | |
| 作曲 : Michael Jordan Bonema | |
| [vol. 1] | |
| [Verse] | |
| The feeling when you got robbed | |
| Somebody playing with my mom, I hope it's not God | |
| Somebody laying in demise, I hope it's not ours | |
| How I'm staying in the grind and got my pops sour | |
| Gotta state it every time you try to pop off | |
| It's not a hot hour, bruh, I got it locked off | |
| Staring at the clocktower, wonder what my moms on | |
| I got power, and I got a harsh tongue | |
| All of me is not coward if you tryna start some | |
| That's how my heart thump | |
| On stage, I'm praying that these bars count | |
| For a large buck, wasn't chasing stardom | |
| Starstruck, I disregard love | |
| That's why my guard's up | |
| Dark year followed by a hard month | |
| What a far lunge, scarred lungs | |
| [vol. 2] | |
| [Verse] | |
| Sitting with my head in my hands, hold it in | |
| Missing, I can spread it to gang, ghost as shit | |
| Tripping, why my eyes always damp? Roll a spliff | |
| You shitting me, we right to the bank | |
| In the kitchen, I be writing my thanks | |
| Then, to abyss, tell me that this life isn't damned | |
| I resist | |
| Feeling like I died but the sand ain't hit the pit | |
| Probably you should ride with your mans | |
| I hit the crib, it's time you start revising your plan | |
| You like a jit, I know it that my mind in a web | |
| Do I exist, how I get behind every step? | |
| Then I slip, smother up my line with regrets | |
| 'Bout to quit, my mother tongue hide in the stress | |
| I couldn't spit, another lung fried in the sess | |
| Lost your kid | |
| [Outro] | |
| The rest of the world | |
| Break apart in slow motion |
| zuò cí : Michael Jordan Bonema | |
| zuò qǔ : Michael Jordan Bonema | |
| vol. 1 | |
| Verse | |
| The feeling when you got robbed | |
| Somebody playing with my mom, I hope it' s not God | |
| Somebody laying in demise, I hope it' s not ours | |
| How I' m staying in the grind and got my pops sour | |
| Gotta state it every time you try to pop off | |
| It' s not a hot hour, bruh, I got it locked off | |
| Staring at the clocktower, wonder what my moms on | |
| I got power, and I got a harsh tongue | |
| All of me is not coward if you tryna start some | |
| That' s how my heart thump | |
| On stage, I' m praying that these bars count | |
| For a large buck, wasn' t chasing stardom | |
| Starstruck, I disregard love | |
| That' s why my guard' s up | |
| Dark year followed by a hard month | |
| What a far lunge, scarred lungs | |
| vol. 2 | |
| Verse | |
| Sitting with my head in my hands, hold it in | |
| Missing, I can spread it to gang, ghost as shit | |
| Tripping, why my eyes always damp? Roll a spliff | |
| You shitting me, we right to the bank | |
| In the kitchen, I be writing my thanks | |
| Then, to abyss, tell me that this life isn' t damned | |
| I resist | |
| Feeling like I died but the sand ain' t hit the pit | |
| Probably you should ride with your mans | |
| I hit the crib, it' s time you start revising your plan | |
| You like a jit, I know it that my mind in a web | |
| Do I exist, how I get behind every step? | |
| Then I slip, smother up my line with regrets | |
| ' Bout to quit, my mother tongue hide in the stress | |
| I couldn' t spit, another lung fried in the sess | |
| Lost your kid | |
| Outro | |
| The rest of the world | |
| Break apart in slow motion |