Common - Invocation
Дата добавления: 21 апреля 2021
Формат: mp3
Исполнители: Common
Битрейт: 320 Kbps
Размер: 5.11 Mb
Продолжительность: 02:14
Просмотры: 0
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Текст песни
Envisionin' the hereafter, listenin' to Steve Wonder
On a quest for love like the Proceed drummer,
I strike like lightning and don't need thunder
Inhale imagination and breathe wonder.
That's your lady, I used to run up in her and G weed from her,
It's a cold world and niggas need summer,
At times my goin' forward seems like retreat
As I rewrite rhyme after rhyme and throw away beats.
Growin' into my britches, outgrowin' the streets,
There's a thin line between war and peace, whores and Jeeps,
Ignore MC's like beeps, scribblin' freedom on pages,
My third eye is like pink eye, seen and contagious.
Redeemin' the ancients with ageless rhyme jargon,
I feel Mexican, hip hop is my garden,
Don't give a fuck where you chartin', certain shit I can't honor,
It ain't that you sellin', it's your karma.
Rappers, I monitor like a chaperone, you large and haven't grown,
Poetically perform live-bys, another rapper gone,
The stage becomes a catacomb, I rap like a mummy,
Not for the money, I could have sampled Diana Ross a long time ago.
My mind of flow is like motor key 20,
Youngblood said he had dimes, I prayed that he see twenty,
Hollain' at the brothers, either you gon' be a thug or a man,
Flip drugs and get land.
I can see my man was tired as he described how the bucks hit him,
And said slugs was still stuck in him, when it rained, it fucked with him.
This bucket interrupt wisdom and asked when my album was comin',
I said, “It's here, it's here...”
On a quest for love like the Proceed drummer,
I strike like lightning and don't need thunder
Inhale imagination and breathe wonder.
That's your lady, I used to run up in her and G weed from her,
It's a cold world and niggas need summer,
At times my goin' forward seems like retreat
As I rewrite rhyme after rhyme and throw away beats.
Growin' into my britches, outgrowin' the streets,
There's a thin line between war and peace, whores and Jeeps,
Ignore MC's like beeps, scribblin' freedom on pages,
My third eye is like pink eye, seen and contagious.
Redeemin' the ancients with ageless rhyme jargon,
I feel Mexican, hip hop is my garden,
Don't give a fuck where you chartin', certain shit I can't honor,
It ain't that you sellin', it's your karma.
Rappers, I monitor like a chaperone, you large and haven't grown,
Poetically perform live-bys, another rapper gone,
The stage becomes a catacomb, I rap like a mummy,
Not for the money, I could have sampled Diana Ross a long time ago.
My mind of flow is like motor key 20,
Youngblood said he had dimes, I prayed that he see twenty,
Hollain' at the brothers, either you gon' be a thug or a man,
Flip drugs and get land.
I can see my man was tired as he described how the bucks hit him,
And said slugs was still stuck in him, when it rained, it fucked with him.
This bucket interrupt wisdom and asked when my album was comin',
I said, “It's here, it's here...”
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