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"Tragedy Khadafi"
"Tragedy Khadafi"
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"Tragedy Khadafi"
"Tragedy Khadafi"
название:
автор:
жанры: rap
альбомы: Still Reporting
The Message
автор:
Tragedy Khadafi
жанры: rap
альбомы: Still Reporting
рейтинг: ★★★★★ / 4.8 / 751 просмотр
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"What price are you talking about, sir?" Malcolm X: "The price of freedom is death" Yo Only one sperm cell survives out of millions Hustlers strive, the trades we learn by the buildings In Hell's Kitchen - projects burn the children Some get locked, lay in a box with no feeling On my back staring at the ceiling, through dealing Sweat dripping, hands together, my knees kneeling Where was God when my pops fell to his death bleeding? Was he trapped like Martin in his last cry for freedom? And when I die, will my soul ride 'til I see him? Never thought that I'd be overseas with Koreans Rockin' a vest, pushin' bulletproof Europeans In hot wheels - spit shit the crowd could feel Spendin' chips on Hilal meals, ripping foul steel While snakes come behind me to lace my spine Say grace and at the same time, embrace my nine We ball like ghetto children in life tournaments Lusting for platinum chains and ice ornaments I strive for what I live for - cut from an iller cloth Plot like Hyman Roth in a loft Stack chips before the new millennium curse U-N-I-Verse, we true and living heirs to the universe Rep' the 41st 'til my heart burst Ready to die - 'til we seen Biggie ride in a hearse Yo, your comrades moving like wolves in sheep's clothing Friends are foes - hanging niggas cause they holding [Hook] If you can't hold on, hang on - we can make it Whatever they don't give us in this life, we can take it Joy and pain - through the sunshine and rain As the world turns, life remains the same We escaped through the flames in this game we bled Pour some liquor on the ground - God bless the dead To my niggas still living, yo - hold your head To my niggas still living, yo - hold your head Yo, yo, yo I blow shots from a drop rover 'til the world's over Seeing Jehovah through the eyes of a young soldier Black Moses - literature in pure dosage From a landscape of Kuwait - Jakes and vultures Too many of us lose focus Due to the fact that we're all just a bunch of soldiers Foul cultures Funny how the streets mold us Allah told us - in the cages where they hold us, it's much colder Hear the pain through my words as I [?] in song See, the world's rotten like the veins in my father's arm Used to be a follower of Islam - niggas is sheist' Study my life - living in these days is trife Heaven and Hell, a thin line between paradise Rather than lose, some choose to take they own life Said a prayer for him, hoping that his soul was blessed Cause my hands couldn't cover all the holes in his chest What they do? Turn around and blame me for his death I'm like Malcolm X resurrected in a Lex', holding two tecs Holograms in the headrest, yo Shoulda knew what love is, before he learned what a thug is Now we leave the seeds to be raised by their mothers I've seen the 'hood raise brothers Kill too many of us A thin line between the freedom and the foul judges In the streets, where them snake niggas hold grudges [Hook]
Это интересно:Судьба Перси Чапмана типична для черной Америки: жизнь в полной нищете, родители-наркоманы, борьба за выживание, наркотики, тюрьма. Молодой Перси был вынужден воровать, чтобы не умереть с голода. В конце концов, он находит лазейку из мрака, — ею стал хип-хоп. Парень рос на одной улице вместе с легендарным продюсером Marley Marl, с которого он не спускал глаз после того, как... продолжение
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