Paroles T.M. (Message To Killa Black) de Tragedy Khadafi

Textes et Paroles de T.M. (Message To Killa Black)

"What price are you talking about, sir?"
[Malcolm X:] "The price of freedom is death"

Yo,
Only one sperm cell survives out of millions
Hustlers strive, the trades we learn by the buildings
In Hell's Kitchen - projects burn the children
Some get locked, lay in a box with no feeling
On my back staring at the ceiling, through dealing
Sweat dripping, hands together, my knees kneeling
Where was God when my pops fell to his death bleeding?
Was he trapped like Martin in his last cry for freedom?
And when I die, will my soul ride 'til I see him?
Never thought that I'd be overseas with Koreans
Rockin' a vest, pushin' bulletproof Europeans
In hot wheels - spit shit the crowd could feel
Spendin' chips on Hilal meals, ripping foul steel
While snakes come behind me to lace my spine
Say grace and at the same time, embrace my nine
We ball like ghetto children in life tournaments
Lusting for platinum chains and ice ornaments
I strive for what I live for - cut from an iller cloth
Plot like Hyman Roth in a loft
Stack chips before the new millennium curse
U-N-I-Verse, we true and living heirs to the universe
Rep' the 41st 'til my heart burst
Ready to die - 'til we seen Biggie ride in a hearse
Yo, your comrades moving like wolves in sheep's clothing
Friends are foes - hanging niggas 'cause they holding

[Chorus]
If you can't hold on, hang on - we can make it
Whatever they don't give us in this life, we can take it
Joy and pain - through the sunshine and rain
As the world turns, life remains the same
We escaped through the flames in this game we bled
Pour some liquor on the ground - God bless the dead
To my niggas still living, yo - hold your head
To my niggas still living, yo - hold your head

Yo, yo, yo,
I blow shots from a drop rover 'til the world's over
Seeing Jehovah through the eyes of a young soldier
Black Moses - literature in pure dosage
From a landscape of Kuwait - Jakes and vultures
Too many of us lose focus
Due to the fact that we're all just a bunch of soldiers
Foul cultures
Funny how the streets mold us
Allah told us - in the cages where they hold us, it's much colder
Hear the pain through my words as I [?] in song
See, the world's rotten like the veins in my father's arm
Used to be a follower of Islam - niggas is sheist'
Study my life - living in these days is trife
Heaven and Hell, a thin line between paradise
Rather than lose, some choose to take they own life
Said a prayer for him, hoping that his soul was blessed
'Cause my hands couldn't cover all the holes in his chest
What they do? Turn around and blame me for his death
I'm like Malcolm X resurrected in a Lex', holding two tecs
Holograms in the headrest, yo
Shoulda knew what love is, before he learned what a thug is
Now we leave the seeds to be raised by their mothers
I've seen the 'hood raise brothers
Kill too many of us
A thin line between the freedom and the foul judges
In the streets, where them snake niggas hold grudges

[Chorus]

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