Blowin' Circles In The Wind Lyrics
| Song | Blowin' Circles In The Wind |
| Artist | Made Men |
| Album | Classic Limited Edition |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| Yo | |
| Turn up my headphones | |
| Sometimes, I don't even know if I'm coming or going | |
| (We about to take you there) | |
| ChorusPlease lord let me make it through a day without no pain | |
| How can I make it through the fire when there is no rain? | |
| Send me free stuff dwelling on my sins | |
| Cause you got me blowing circles in the wind | |
| Chorus | |
| Verse 1: Mr GzusI'm high as hell loungin' on my Ralph Lauren sofa | |
| Caught up in this game trying to maintain the quota | |
| Before it's over, gun talk before the gun spark | |
| Survive this long cause of the way I keep my gun cocked | |
| It's so dark, when I delve into my memoirs, | |
| And it's so graphic; I strap myself with my Kevlar | |
| Hand on my gun metal, for all the beef that's unsettled | |
| Sold everything a thug pedalled, I'm just one rebel | |
| Thoughts are through in mind a la Kurt Cobain | |
| Yo, it's slow pain, like cocaine, flowing through a cold vein | |
| I meet the odds, now I pray to the gods | |
| My niggaz in the yard get dealt some better cards | |
| Made Men's at large, get the **** up ou to f Dodge | |
| Your whole entourage will get hit up with a barrage | |
| My choice weapon, the legacy of my legend | |
| Will still live on, until the day of Armageddon | |
| When I hit the dead end, yo, it's fire on the crucifix | |
| I'm losing it, trying to figure out who's the snitch | |
| I shed blood for my honour, on the street corner | |
| Hotter than a sauna, blazin' marijuana | |
| Duckin' shots and regroup I buck back, yo | |
| Cause **** that, that's where niggaz be getting snuffed at | |
| Whatever's coming tell me, I'll take i to n the chin | |
| So for every sin, I'm blowing circles in the wind | |
| Verse 2: Antonio Twice ThouI inhale and blow it out | |
| Stress calls, in the Source no doubt | |
| I got steam to blow the top off a pressure cooker | |
| I had a dream; it seems frustration took us | |
| Do I have to grab a gat to touch my fantasy? | |
| Or will I live long enough to have a chance to see | |
| If I can blow the spot, show the world what I got | |
| You know there's a million niggaz thinking just like me | |
| Smokin' on the same weed, livin' on the same named street | |
| With the same fat beats, | |
| and all criminals for ****ing with cracks and heats | |
| We magnets to the dragnet, young, black and got assets | |
| to make a smash like the crash test | |
| Now what's next, lifestyles of the trifle fraudulent | |
| I work hard, my life; it's still hard to get | |
| Interruption from a deep thought, to twist up | |
| Architect, I roll blunts perfect, apex when it's lit up | |
| I can't relax; I'm never calm | |
| No matter what happens, somebody drops the bomb; trying to do me harm | |
| And these street politics got me strapped up | |
| with a .45 stick and a habit on bricks | |
| I pat myself on the chest, to feel a vest | |
| Cause jealousy and envy among my peoples is a mess | |
| Don't playa hate, hate the game | |
| It's all the same; I'm blowing circles 'til I'm blowing flames | |
| Ain't nothing changed | |
| Chorus continues in background | |
| Where my thugs at? (Made Men) x5 |
| Yo | |
| Turn up my headphones | |
| Sometimes, I don' t even know if I' m coming or going | |
| We about to take you there | |
| ChorusPlease lord let me make it through a day without no pain | |
| How can I make it through the fire when there is no rain? | |
| Send me free stuff dwelling on my sins | |
| Cause you got me blowing circles in the wind | |
| Chorus | |
| Verse 1: Mr GzusI' m high as hell loungin' on my Ralph Lauren sofa | |
| Caught up in this game trying to maintain the quota | |
| Before it' s over, gun talk before the gun spark | |
| Survive this long cause of the way I keep my gun cocked | |
| It' s so dark, when I delve into my memoirs, | |
| And it' s so graphic I strap myself with my Kevlar | |
| Hand on my gun metal, for all the beef that' s unsettled | |
| Sold everything a thug pedalled, I' m just one rebel | |
| Thoughts are through in mind a la Kurt Cobain | |
| Yo, it' s slow pain, like cocaine, flowing through a cold vein | |
| I meet the odds, now I pray to the gods | |
| My niggaz in the yard get dealt some better cards | |
| Made Men' s at large, get the up ou to f Dodge | |
| Your whole entourage will get hit up with a barrage | |
| My choice weapon, the legacy of my legend | |
| Will still live on, until the day of Armageddon | |
| When I hit the dead end, yo, it' s fire on the crucifix | |
| I' m losing it, trying to figure out who' s the snitch | |
| I shed blood for my honour, on the street corner | |
| Hotter than a sauna, blazin' marijuana | |
| Duckin' shots and regroup I buck back, yo | |
| Cause that, that' s where niggaz be getting snuffed at | |
| Whatever' s coming tell me, I' ll take i to n the chin | |
| So for every sin, I' m blowing circles in the wind | |
| Verse 2: Antonio Twice ThouI inhale and blow it out | |
| Stress calls, in the Source no doubt | |
| I got steam to blow the top off a pressure cooker | |
| I had a dream it seems frustration took us | |
| Do I have to grab a gat to touch my fantasy? | |
| Or will I live long enough to have a chance to see | |
| If I can blow the spot, show the world what I got | |
| You know there' s a million niggaz thinking just like me | |
| Smokin' on the same weed, livin' on the same named street | |
| With the same fat beats, | |
| and all criminals for ing with cracks and heats | |
| We magnets to the dragnet, young, black and got assets | |
| to make a smash like the crash test | |
| Now what' s next, lifestyles of the trifle fraudulent | |
| I work hard, my life it' s still hard to get | |
| Interruption from a deep thought, to twist up | |
| Architect, I roll blunts perfect, apex when it' s lit up | |
| I can' t relax I' m never calm | |
| No matter what happens, somebody drops the bomb trying to do me harm | |
| And these street politics got me strapped up | |
| with a . 45 stick and a habit on bricks | |
| I pat myself on the chest, to feel a vest | |
| Cause jealousy and envy among my peoples is a mess | |
| Don' t playa hate, hate the game | |
| It' s all the same I' m blowing circles ' til I' m blowing flames | |
| Ain' t nothing changed | |
| Chorus continues in background | |
| Where my thugs at? Made Men x5 |
| Yo | |
| Turn up my headphones | |
| Sometimes, I don' t even know if I' m coming or going | |
| We about to take you there | |
| ChorusPlease lord let me make it through a day without no pain | |
| How can I make it through the fire when there is no rain? | |
| Send me free stuff dwelling on my sins | |
| Cause you got me blowing circles in the wind | |
| Chorus | |
| Verse 1: Mr GzusI' m high as hell loungin' on my Ralph Lauren sofa | |
| Caught up in this game trying to maintain the quota | |
| Before it' s over, gun talk before the gun spark | |
| Survive this long cause of the way I keep my gun cocked | |
| It' s so dark, when I delve into my memoirs, | |
| And it' s so graphic I strap myself with my Kevlar | |
| Hand on my gun metal, for all the beef that' s unsettled | |
| Sold everything a thug pedalled, I' m just one rebel | |
| Thoughts are through in mind a la Kurt Cobain | |
| Yo, it' s slow pain, like cocaine, flowing through a cold vein | |
| I meet the odds, now I pray to the gods | |
| My niggaz in the yard get dealt some better cards | |
| Made Men' s at large, get the up ou to f Dodge | |
| Your whole entourage will get hit up with a barrage | |
| My choice weapon, the legacy of my legend | |
| Will still live on, until the day of Armageddon | |
| When I hit the dead end, yo, it' s fire on the crucifix | |
| I' m losing it, trying to figure out who' s the snitch | |
| I shed blood for my honour, on the street corner | |
| Hotter than a sauna, blazin' marijuana | |
| Duckin' shots and regroup I buck back, yo | |
| Cause that, that' s where niggaz be getting snuffed at | |
| Whatever' s coming tell me, I' ll take i to n the chin | |
| So for every sin, I' m blowing circles in the wind | |
| Verse 2: Antonio Twice ThouI inhale and blow it out | |
| Stress calls, in the Source no doubt | |
| I got steam to blow the top off a pressure cooker | |
| I had a dream it seems frustration took us | |
| Do I have to grab a gat to touch my fantasy? | |
| Or will I live long enough to have a chance to see | |
| If I can blow the spot, show the world what I got | |
| You know there' s a million niggaz thinking just like me | |
| Smokin' on the same weed, livin' on the same named street | |
| With the same fat beats, | |
| and all criminals for ing with cracks and heats | |
| We magnets to the dragnet, young, black and got assets | |
| to make a smash like the crash test | |
| Now what' s next, lifestyles of the trifle fraudulent | |
| I work hard, my life it' s still hard to get | |
| Interruption from a deep thought, to twist up | |
| Architect, I roll blunts perfect, apex when it' s lit up | |
| I can' t relax I' m never calm | |
| No matter what happens, somebody drops the bomb trying to do me harm | |
| And these street politics got me strapped up | |
| with a . 45 stick and a habit on bricks | |
| I pat myself on the chest, to feel a vest | |
| Cause jealousy and envy among my peoples is a mess | |
| Don' t playa hate, hate the game | |
| It' s all the same I' m blowing circles ' til I' m blowing flames | |
| Ain' t nothing changed | |
| Chorus continues in background | |
| Where my thugs at? Made Men x5 |
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