Evolution Of The Kid Lyrics
| Song | Evolution Of The Kid |
| Artist | Slaine |
| Album | The Boston Project |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| How’s it feel to be overlooked, underrated and hated, | |
| Stomach pains in the belly of a city hungry, | |
| If one of us made it to prominence is a mentality | |
| Of crabs in the barrel of reality, it’s pretty ugly. | |
| Well back up cause my story ain’t a fairy tell, it’s really real, | |
| Ain’t had a chance I ain’t have nothing I could barely feel, | |
| All I have is these neighborhoods I know very well, | |
| In a fiery will, some pages in my diary I would spill, | |
| Lyrics on my paper, violence around me, it’s on me | |
| I blindly look through these books like a zombie, | |
| Measuring these stories with these bare hands, pictures of this grimy game, | |
| I stall it like a pilot in a kamikaze plane | |
| A decade of pain, dudes know I’m a grown man | |
| I live my life holding death inside my own hand | |
| The kids that I grew up with, locked up, are inside a box | |
| There ain’t no one in here, the only choice is fight or box | |
| The music pushed me through the ghosts in the hall, | |
| The toasters and the dope sickness and ferociousness and all, | |
| The hopelessness of watching overdoses in the horror | |
| Suicides and murders, I can't take this shit no more | |
| I have these posters on my wall and this music in my room | |
| It took me out my world, it would shoot me to the moon | |
| Yous’ a fire burning, I’m determined from this hard learning | |
| Put me on a different road, engine revving, tires turning | |
| Ever since I’m 7 I just know where I got to go | |
| Trapped in this vicious dome, but I’m back, this is home | |
| They said I coulda been a star but I lost my logic | |
| My heart is harder than the bricks in the Boston projects |
| How' s it feel to be overlooked, underrated and hated, | |
| Stomach pains in the belly of a city hungry, | |
| If one of us made it to prominence is a mentality | |
| Of crabs in the barrel of reality, it' s pretty ugly. | |
| Well back up cause my story ain' t a fairy tell, it' s really real, | |
| Ain' t had a chance I ain' t have nothing I could barely feel, | |
| All I have is these neighborhoods I know very well, | |
| In a fiery will, some pages in my diary I would spill, | |
| Lyrics on my paper, violence around me, it' s on me | |
| I blindly look through these books like a zombie, | |
| Measuring these stories with these bare hands, pictures of this grimy game, | |
| I stall it like a pilot in a kamikaze plane | |
| A decade of pain, dudes know I' m a grown man | |
| I live my life holding death inside my own hand | |
| The kids that I grew up with, locked up, are inside a box | |
| There ain' t no one in here, the only choice is fight or box | |
| The music pushed me through the ghosts in the hall, | |
| The toasters and the dope sickness and ferociousness and all, | |
| The hopelessness of watching overdoses in the horror | |
| Suicides and murders, I can' t take this shit no more | |
| I have these posters on my wall and this music in my room | |
| It took me out my world, it would shoot me to the moon | |
| Yous' a fire burning, I' m determined from this hard learning | |
| Put me on a different road, engine revving, tires turning | |
| Ever since I' m 7 I just know where I got to go | |
| Trapped in this vicious dome, but I' m back, this is home | |
| They said I coulda been a star but I lost my logic | |
| My heart is harder than the bricks in the Boston projects |
| How' s it feel to be overlooked, underrated and hated, | |
| Stomach pains in the belly of a city hungry, | |
| If one of us made it to prominence is a mentality | |
| Of crabs in the barrel of reality, it' s pretty ugly. | |
| Well back up cause my story ain' t a fairy tell, it' s really real, | |
| Ain' t had a chance I ain' t have nothing I could barely feel, | |
| All I have is these neighborhoods I know very well, | |
| In a fiery will, some pages in my diary I would spill, | |
| Lyrics on my paper, violence around me, it' s on me | |
| I blindly look through these books like a zombie, | |
| Measuring these stories with these bare hands, pictures of this grimy game, | |
| I stall it like a pilot in a kamikaze plane | |
| A decade of pain, dudes know I' m a grown man | |
| I live my life holding death inside my own hand | |
| The kids that I grew up with, locked up, are inside a box | |
| There ain' t no one in here, the only choice is fight or box | |
| The music pushed me through the ghosts in the hall, | |
| The toasters and the dope sickness and ferociousness and all, | |
| The hopelessness of watching overdoses in the horror | |
| Suicides and murders, I can' t take this shit no more | |
| I have these posters on my wall and this music in my room | |
| It took me out my world, it would shoot me to the moon | |
| Yous' a fire burning, I' m determined from this hard learning | |
| Put me on a different road, engine revving, tires turning | |
| Ever since I' m 7 I just know where I got to go | |
| Trapped in this vicious dome, but I' m back, this is home | |
| They said I coulda been a star but I lost my logic | |
| My heart is harder than the bricks in the Boston projects |
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