• Written by ThatKidCoco
To Feel So Broken by Production Prophets
It's the kid supreme with rhythm so clean
A dollar and a dream, an addiction to feed
And beats to keep at. Ready to relapse.
I wrote it so read that. The best I'll be that.
So people get ready, for Mario Andretti
Throwin' the fetti with girls named Betty,
Lucy and Veronica who said she's fond of ya
But you see it's not enough, being that kind of brotha,
Go back to mother. I'm fast to forward.
I'll pack the moment. Mail it to opponents.
So they can view over and over a light-skinned cobra
Make 'em hold up in a room so cold
Like a foreigner coming to the US
But after a few steps, agents refuse them
Entry and recuse them because their Muslim.
Now truth is my enemy's foolish.
You the fit the whole group in that small booth.
You've got only few kin and even less wins.
They say the bible begins with one or two sins,
A voice in the wind saying come on friend.
So let's not pretend. You know you listened
And whichever vision said you're gifted
Got it twisted and lies spilled like liquid
Your head fat like lipids even though you're still piss.
Let's take a minute.
Gimme the belt or defend it.
It's Ali v. Liston.
You ain't competition.
It's the kid cruel burning logs at yule
To fire the fuel and all else valuable
I don't need the property, possessions or boundaries.
Socrates just crowned me so I think you're mad weak.
Meanwhile I'm feeling strong as Samson.
With these rhymes for ransom, coming just too handsome
Because sometimes it feels like they're holding me
Controlling my lips until I can barely breathe.
Escaping my mouth asphyxiating air flow.
You may think I'm a goner but I still got more.
I still won't fold. I got to uphold
The future foretold by these Production Prophets
That once I get the music in me I'll 1-2-3 rock it.
Polished the mic before I step in and drop it.
You think I'm stoppin'? What's your problem?
Abolish the nonsense and I'll clear my conscience.
Allow the process, ahead by 5 steps,
To judge by content and not by mindset.
I thread lyrics like they were fine print
And paint colors a little too vibrant.
So much vocal violence from attacking the silence
You can hear the sirens warning the pilots
To bring some kindness straight from the islands
But I'm feeling defiance so when you're done, rewind it.