Lyrics:
patient
Get buried
Falling into
Your own grave
I'm spittin'
Like an automatic
Spraying lead
I'm going rabid
You getting hit by all this traffic
Bathed in
outselling you
By 29 I had three albums that had blew
Now let's talk about somethin' I don't really do
Go in someone's daughter's mouth stealin' food
But
Come one
Come all
No faves
Just y'all
How far
Y'all fall
I'm up
You're small
I just wanted to drop by
To let my spit fly
Let my demons lie in a grave
eating dirt
Being buried alive
Put to death by surprise in
The name of black gods
Ain't I most fly? Young pie don't cry
Dry the tears from your eye
the grief's gone
Ill regard for the broken homes and mother's left to hold their
Sons and daughters, husbands, fathers, ripped away by the will of monsters
But
On Uncle Sam's daughters and sons
Good old boys and girls
Congregating, waiting in another world
With roller coaster brains
Imagine playing with trains
committed on the black people
And the ghetto is a trap with glass walls
Should I sell drugs, be a rap thug, or play ball?
We end up in the grave anyway
talk, that lad and I'm no wimp fam
I ain't even going to quit AFTER I'm dead
Real big spliff when I blaze in my grave
Six deep, all pale and bony as fuck
average kid is
Got your son's and daughters' tellin' me I'm wicked
And I'm just sittin' in my own league
Yah better pay attention like you owe me
I'm still
it's gone, they turn him down.
They're all alike at the bottom, selfish and gasping for all.
They'll stand by a man while he's winning and laugh in his
Standing here at the altar with all that I have to offer
Holding onto hopes, that what I gave is enough
But if the price to pay is my grave
I'll do what I
I would like to say to this gentleman and all other people
Who are not blessed with melanin at this point in time
To understand that what has
is ain't never gonna be. But long as they keep on building tracks on the backs of the poor black sons and daughters...Muddy Water's said it, Huddie
to stand up and just
Fight for what you believe in
I don't call it violence
I just call it self-defense
Call it black intelligence brought
To by the people
imagine what I do for a quarter
Ain't no telling what I do for a dollar
Pop a nigga right in front of his mama
Son a nigga right in front of his daughter
what I do for a quarter
Ain't no tellin what I do for a dollar
Pop a nigga right in front of his mama
Son a nigga right in front of his daughter
delivered by, blacks
Soon as we unite the sky cracked
A group of UFO's formed a seven in the heavens
God celebrate devils death day signal
Jail let
of man
Been that way for a long time
Son of a daughter of single moms
Who had waited there in that long line
For that DSS for them 8 kids
A proud women
in the rock
Last words on the cusp of clouds
Daughter of the mountain
Twisted arms snake from the earth
Hiding a hoard of unkempt truths
A grave
daughters and sons
Good old boys and girls
Congregating waiting in another world
With roller coaster brains
Imagine playing with trains
Good old boys
smokin' like a broke stove
Yeah, and I'm all about that bullshit
The casket, the hearse, and the pastor in the pulpit
I kill a nigga at the drop
a dollar
Pop a nigga right in front of his mama
Son a nigga right in front of his daughter
And I'm nothin' like a father
Couldn't come from these nuts I got
get so high tonight that i touch heaven gates
Its hard to find sometime to smile at lofe when you already late
Sit up in that room all by my lonely i
goes through deaf ears
Cuz I'm still here living hell on earth
Wishing I'd get buried in dirt already
Like why I gotta die to get to heaven so early
Discuss these buried in the grave multimedia track by all sons daughters Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In