No ratings.
Just something I wrote. |
This is the thirty first third, No one thought that through word, Blindness occurred, Names slurred, messages misheard, Truths blurred, causing hate and murder A music of the streets, causing more heat then XTC and VD, But please, Rakim and Eric B speak more to me then Martin Luther King, Playstation two or T.V., So why you gotta hate, And try to take what makes a broke man cake? I just wanna get paid, It aint all about getting laid, Mistreatin a bitch or blastin the AK, In the end, your talk is just more money made. The word is access to the soul, But you went and stole What made a nation whole; Telling us are hip-hop floetrys a dark hole, In a road to hell and our flows cause murderas, yo Shit sounds scandalas, Cuz all I’m trying to do is make money han’ova’fiss, You bitch talking cats maka mah’wanna’blass*(1) Peace is hard when my word’s hated the mass, A mass of middle class white trash, Just as fast put my ass in a body cass*(2) Thinkin there physical violence will leave an impression that’ll last, Past when the vast mass makes me a legend, on the level of Nas the Nass*(3) So whats the cause of these massive flaws? Societys imoralitys and soon to be laws, Like these Columbine tragedys lie on musicians shoulders, we aint gahds*(4) We just make music and sprew it, we aint dogs, So quit treatin us like a bitch, Cuz nigga you just makin us rich. 1. Man want to blast (Shoot someone) 2. Cast. 3. Nasty Nas (Rapper) 4. Gods. |