Brix
With rap, comes blood.. & strung love, with no guidance or relevance
Money in the hood kills the good, who become the midise of neglegance
Go'n' look, the doors made of wood - so don't blow a light in the entrance
Opportunities endangered us, when strangers take a bite at a reference..
Which rappers never write or mention, yet it continually fuels tension
Until "boiling over" becomes just another fucking homicidal lesson
Suicidal aggression plays a big part in aiding, & degrading reputation
Still.. you think its worth while, when green bills have no limitation
& you STILL think your "ice" pile, warrants more than immitation
You're wrong..
..in all relations, then you'll revert to a bunch of classics just to rape'em.
See when your material vapours, apt to venereal capers, & drugs hurt
You'll realise later, maybe too late.. that actually none of them work
Looking for your jus' deserts is fine, it'll hit you at the worst time
Number 1, down to 53rd..
& I'm still punching myself in my mind, that a guy like you were ever mine.
You didn't just fall outta line, or advert to custodial crime..
You inspired millions of children, just to let that inspiration die.
So I guess I'm the con of this rhyme, as there's nothing left to teach me
Life ain't peachy, now watch your legacy die with rain-washed graffiti
As for your LP's and Cd'S, and all the ticket stubs I feel I didn't see
Have been thrown out freely with the rest of my memories.
The inspiration, ripped the latter away.
Nique
The call is over, we write for this spot
Fallen soldiers turned Jesus Christ's of Hip Hop
And we're the lines to its plot, a thugs shrine to the blueprint
Not finding solutions to these blood lines in the movement
From the time that we're students. It's unpleasantly hard,
When lessons' are scarred from taking your message too far
It's getting hectic by far with the dummies involved
In God We Trust? But we shouldn't trust money at all
It ain't funny at all. There's bullshit in all evil
With guns god-like. .cause a bullet loves all people
This drug is lethal, but I guess we've slept through the curse
Every death is a birth. .we accept and crept through the worst
But I'm expecting a search under the rawkus and smug
For our pride and dignity brushed under carpets and rugs
Try to go farther with love. And seeking for more,
Of a line or a song for LIFE ...and even the score
Relieving the gore, the hatred, the submissive extent
Where malicious intent is thought out from fictitous events
So with this pen I vent when it's sad and rough
And learn to live with the fact that with rap, comes blood