A+

A+ - Hard Times

Je score:
The struggle lives hard times, we do or die
 My whole crews fly hands high to the sky
 So maintain son elevate try to build
 But now youre still cuz incarceration is for real
 Yeah son you know its on
 Now who would be the clown in the nine-six to mess around and catch a
 fist
 I show no mercy if you irk me
 I got physical that alert me when some herb tried to jerk me
 Or put the squeeze on it, break down the cipher
 But it wont work, were tight like the Q-Tip in the fight
 Now is you insane is your brain intact
 We be official when it comes to this no B.S. rap
 Here comes the lyrical, aerial raid right where you rest at
 Now test that
 I snatch your heart right through your chest black
 Gettin ill thoughts when I sleep at night
 I gotta maintain, blot the blood stains on my brain
 From the clappin, we can make it happen
 Remember you aint a killer, you only rappin
 I hate it, rappers overexaggeratin
 And never shot a gun in they life, they only masterbatin
 So come clean and keep it real if you like my sound
 And wave your hands in the air and put the nines down
 [Chorus: 2X]
 Brothas fought daily in the streets, we reek havoc
 On every block someones flippin like an acrobat
 Im kinda young but I still gotta hold my own
 And Ima maintain whats mine till the day Im grown
 I keep my crew up, people say I got a gang
 But I dont smoke I dont shoot and my crew dont slang
 We just hang tryin to get up in this rap game
 So I can gain so fame and build my crews name
 Rollin with juvenile thugs wit bad grades and bad ways
 Who woulda thought that I had some AIDS
 Dream totes and aspirations
 Brothas are tired of being broke so maybe thats why they free-basing
 Wastin time doing nothing
 Livin like an outcast gotta get up get out and get something
 [Chorus: 2X]
  Look into my eyes see if you can see what I can see
 In my reality the whole world is after me
 Schemin on the key but yo I got this locked down
 Me and lost and found comin out the underground
 Takin no prisoners my listeners we keep it real
 My thoughts are militant, when Im in the killin field
 Click click, my minds automatic, so wheres the static
 I got some joints up in my attic if you wanna grab it
 I form a cipher where my peace brothers dont sleep
 You try to creep I guarantee thats when you feel the heat
 I come correct in this rap game
 Rappers act insane
 Meanwhile Im blowin the mic an back in the frame
 They cant see me, they cant feel the real G
 I represent, commercial rap will never kill me
 [Chorus: 4X
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Copyrights:

Auteur: Andre Levins, Charles Smith (10), James Smith (11), Frank Wilson, Pam Sawyer

Componist: ?

Publisher: Kedar Entertainment, Universal Records Inc.

Details:

Uitgegeven in: 1996

Taal: Engels

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