Vast Aire

Vast Aire - Slow Blues songtekst

Je score:

(feat. Byata)



[Intro: Timbo King (Prodigal Sunn) {Byata}]

Yeah, get my voice, get the clarity (Sunzini the flame)

{Let me drop a little something hot, what?} Yeah

(Yo turn my vocals up son) {Yeah, turn my voice up}

Brooklyn, Bo King... yeah... {All my Russians come on}

I gotta pull out the guitar on this one.



[Vast Aire]

I'm Vast Aire... I'm like Ali, better yet Joe Louis

I will push my hands through you, I don't need bullets

Show me the signal, let's flow

I be outside with 30 niggaz ready to go

We shine when we rhyme, so I'm, ready to glow

I liked to helm shows, I'm ready to sow

Pass me the needle, you get the cloth

Kunta'll get the thread, and we'll all break bread

This is the true birth of a prince

When I die, this song will be a footprint

I be back with the essence in an instant

I heard about Ason, and burnt an incense

Life's ill, don't get it pretzled

I can't show you, but I'll leave a stencil

I'm talking about what matters, not figures

I'm pointing at the moon, and you looking at my finger



[Byata]

Come correct me, and I really give a fuck

Who won't accept me, you see?

I gotta do this for the underground, broke it down

Coney Isle, BK to Uptown, yeah, they gonna know me now

I'm up in the kitchen cooking up some hot shit

Ask your boy Raekwon, he gonna tell you how I spit

Yeah, Byata live it, it's a hustle every day

I'm on the grind, try'nna see this, milion' kay-vay

But I stay shining, catch me when I'm up in the scene

Rocking the cell plus roots, now your delf, ya silk screens

Yeah, gorilla style, don't make me have to wild out

With the, surrealer, for realer, clap you, and come tell bout

Making moves, paying dues on the evening news

The Russian lifestyle, bitches, we let them lose

Now give me another blast of that green

Til I get open and I'm nasty with the sixteen

They don't even know what's coming

Til them got them rubbing off the rooster

Chick from C.I., to Brighten Beach, yea, we Russian sick

What? Yeah, we Russian sick, uh, yeah, the chick is sick



[Timbo King]

I'm Young Abraham, in front of the projects puffing

If I, honor myself, then my honor is nothing

Even a spirit of evil, in the veins of a junkie

Pay peanuts and you get monkeys

Honkey see, honkey do, yeah, Yacub the foul serpent

Amongst crack dealers, street merchants, Bo King

Yeah, flows from out of my mouth

Up North, Down South, yeah, I'm never without

Extra heat, on some black burner, semi assault

Buccaneer, yeah I'm bucking near holes in your port

Cuz, you ain't bustin' nothing, that's studio edits

Who doing the shooting, your engineer, get all the credit

So while you busting shots in a four hour session

I'll be aiming at cops in the name of oppression

Mack one to the second power, clap off end

I can hit anything up close or far away

Spray lead at the governor's head, cuz he don't wanna

Break bread with the slaves that never been fed



[Prodigal Sunn]

One for my son's money, two for the show

Three, I gets busy, four; I'm out the door, bro

Five, the click get live, the Sunn don't die

Blaze that haze in the East, that purple gush on the Westside

Tech vests with the metal slides, from rebel Bedstuy

I do or die, high and on the ride

This revolution will be televised, through mics, I'm mesmerized

Sight spies, small fries, living lies

Destined to flame, will get you blowned out the fucking frame

I don't bang, but I will let that evil reign

Never catch me tucking the chain, I'm gutter grain

That's word to mutha, main, sustained in this fucking game

Yeah, he shines like aluminum foil, make the mic boil

Ladies and gentleman, introducing, I'm loyal

Blood lines royal, hood raised never spoiled

I'm quick to bury a snake, Jake, breathe the soil

Twist that backwood berry croyal

Taste the green as it broil, and watch it burn like oil

That independent who stays major, rule one, about my paper

It all started on the block with small cash capers

A force of nature, my moms and pops ain't no glass makers

And if I see you on some shit; I'm a fair shaker

I let it out like Sharon Vegas, serving traitors

Y'all niggaz now I shine across the equator
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Taal: Engels

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