SOLANGE KNOWLES REMIX BY SPIC

 

 

 

Found my faith in the same place that I lost it

I pray last year is my last taste of the coffin

Loved ones never forgotten as they're always in my conscience

Been this way since eight hallways filled to the brim with nothing but nonsense

Your latest song perceived as a novelty, come follow me

My new tracks were said to be a prophecy, well probably

In a world where everyone's nostalgia is suburban home lore

I get nostalgia from cigarette smoke and corner store galore

The lights flicker with the air drenched with the scent of hard liquor

I can see through you, it ain't hard to pull apart Richard

Rappers think they're kings until somebody else pulls their card

We shuffle our moves together until everything else falls in place

Was never really into card games to be brutally honest

It's too many jokers in the cards I was dealt, they're stupid retarded

Too many self-proclaimed kings and queens, I wanna see the real thing

And judging by their actions, everybody's moving filthy

I see egos and those braggadocious ethos

Playing pretend so they tote sticks hopefully to feel real

You're swimming with the sharks but can't see underwater

Shallow minded, they're all headed for the slaughter

 

He's a dickhead, for what though?

He ain't hard, no cutthroat

The melodies got to his mental, he's starting to think that he's deathstroke

Rap fantasy like he's not broke

Veggies kick dirt, they artichoke

Not everyone's meant for what they think they are

Topics you don't see as familiar

Rappers get their garments in a twist when they see this

You think that you're him, I guess Superman is bleeding

Nowadays everyone is bulletproof and invincible

In the game full-time, you're the type to lose your principles

Somehow you have opps too, I find it hilarious

Music is polluted, you notice rap has mass hysteria

When Juice came out, everybody said that they're depressed now

Same way when Durk came up, rappers got checks now

Blow most your rent on debt and maybe some textile

To post to a social captioned: Everybody check out my style!

And somehow your wrist as cold as freezers in Moscow

If you really live like that, why not help your mom out?

Priorities that matter at the bottom of his bucketlist

All I hear is clatter, rather go, "I've had enough of this"

At the verge, jump off a cliff, tell you to suck a dick

I can't even function, it's so boring and nobody touches it

I don't care about the clique you're saying that you're rolling with

It's just lots of things to think about when you're growing quick

I'm so sorry for your dillema, L-O-L, woe is me

Checking off my hitlist, past due for my groceries

Egg heads get cracked next, scribble it now

I'm focused on this cheese and bread, I need to get out of town

My boys in the back going bananas when I make a move

Don't conform to the rest of the aisle because that's what cages do

I'm one of the last artists without a G in their MO

Genetically modified conscience, tell the industry to go die slow

Tell an A&R that they should shut their pie hole

Bloggers can write about it too, call me everything that's vile