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[Vordul] Pop goes the flow of the weasel |
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Strapped with an |
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Ox full of diesel |
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Trapped in the desert with eagles |
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Thoughts of ghetto acapellas in cathedrals |
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Spilling heavy gospels with cheaters |
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Twisted up, high off the reefer |
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Lost beyond regions of logic and reason, just being |
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We high so be not so obedient to society's laws and limitations |
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Lost in this ghetto population |
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I'm just another face that's facing all types of, like |
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Stereotypes and hatred |
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But I ain't going to whet that and get all stressed out |
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I'm just trying to make it and strive with my... |
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Hellbent Hell went through changes, emotions, inner thoughts and rages |
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Relieved and released on pages |
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My life in its cycle and stages |
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Seen through descriptions in nature |
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Ever since back in the days when niggaz was loving and hating |
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Everyone trapped and two thou caught |
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The Matrix |
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With diseases of judgement that breed through the hatred |
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Conceived through these scenes and then painted |
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Now what really defines the line of a hater |
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And what defines the line of someone even greater |
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And what makes somebody jump that line trying to take it |
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Wrapped behind enemy lines trying to make it |
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Mind in another universe while my physical's stuck on the earth |
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In these inner city mazes [Vast Aire] |
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Yo (11x) Lay that shit down |
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What is you, a clown? |
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You wanna see a little kid get shot? |
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Give me two good reasons so |
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I don't smack you |
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For flashing a gun in my face just to get some respect |
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All in all, it's all love and |
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I'm here to protect |
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You only twelve years old, someone'll snap your neck |
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You let your pants sag, but your thoughts gotta pull up |
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Mental calisthenics, lazer brains can't push up |
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Or even sit up to fight for what they believe in |
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He thought about it |
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I said, "Peace, keep breathing." |
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I see him mumbling, shrugging his shoulder |
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He probably cursing, but he know better |
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He had a beretta with the rubbed off serial digit |
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And I know he got it from |
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Carlos The |
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Midget The only cat |
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I know cold enough to hustle shit to kids |
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Been in this three man team forming eight arm squid |
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And they laugh in the face of |
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Any possibilities of being through and dead |
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We're all from the same ghettos |
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And these are the same hollow tips that knock nearly out of stilettos |
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He cocked first, |
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I cocked second |
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And in that exact second both of the gats burst "Man, this is your last fucking chance." "Fuck you, this is your last chance." [Vordul] |
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Live and orchestrated |
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From blocks where animals grew up as four lazers |
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We twist mad sabres |
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Rock the sky pimping jays all day blazes |
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Wrapped in these inner city mazes |
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Relaxing on corners where cats stay wasted |
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Choking on 4-0 basics, you taste it |
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My life's an oasis, this trife's what |
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I make it |
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Straight through these days spitting raps that laced it |
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I'm just trying to blaze these mics on the stages |
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Write on these pages like life as a scene, in amazement |
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Like, "Ima stay blazing mics until I'm fading Off of this surface to return to my nature" |
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In the meantime, spit flows and cop acres |
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Put my fam in it with shelter that spaces |
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Everyday life, yo, is rap in these mazes |
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I'm just trying to make it |
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The O-E slowly dissolves in my belly, got me aching |
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Niggaz up the block, yo |
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I swear, trying to take it |
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But I'ma stay patient, watching every move made in the jungle |
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It's live trying to strive in this struggle |
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New York state of mind, that's the home that |
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I come to |
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Nothing but pigeons living, trapped in this system |
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Bleeding, screaming...phoenix |
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We needed that scrap for that meaning to stay shining |
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Trying to escape out of hellfires and lakes |
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Brain on another plane gliding through acid rain |
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That's stress trying to master pain |
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Spit words, not to hurt, but to bash your brain |
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That's the worth of an |
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MC wrapped in the vein |
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New York |
