There's some confusion about nooses
Guess our lessons ain't been learned
There's a contusion in our music
Guess our trauma ain't been earned
I realize my sacrifice
Don't mean shit to my masters burn
All of this shit down to the ground
Until ownership gets its turn
We been rapping for pennies for half of a century
Laughing to mask the fact that I'm basking in envy
Mastered the craft now they use my masters against me
Advance me some cash after taxes I'm practically empty
Slowly losing my passion the path of an emcee
Got me gasping passing the Henny and grasping the semi
Niggas think cause I dropped a classic I'm doing better
Like I got a slew of cheddar
If only you knew my thoughts of pursuing a new endeavor
They saying Grip you can't give up on the music never
I quit is something you could never say
It's funny, they act like I just started rapping yesterday
Fact of the matter is, you niggas just started pressing play
I met a man who's pupils were dollar signs
He made a deal that promised I won't be forgot in time
But here's the catch
Every single rhyme you jot is mine, not a problem, fine
Just put your name on this dotted line
There's some confusion about nooses
Guess our lessons ain't been learned
There's a contusion in our music
Guess our trauma ain't been earned
I realize my sacrifice
Don't mean shit to my masters burn
All of this shit down to the ground
Until ownership gets its turn
Product of the madness sold as product to the masses
From poverty we bastards so we flashing in high fashion
Never learned cash money so when earned cash money
We burned cash money, ghetto stars turned crash dummies
In foreign cars, that's leased and Audemars with links
We had to buss down for all them times a nigga had to bus it
Spent like half the budget to put some gas in the bucket
Down to your last like fuck it if I was a lad who's dad had duckets
Would I give this biz the green light
If I knew the words I sing might put me on a string like puppets
Controlled by japeto from ghetto to ghetto
Kiss your hood goodbye and tell Hollywood hello
But old habits die hard and where I'm from we die young
Cause we can't let bygones be bygones so we buy guns
And when you caught slipping, they gone make a killing off your killing
And the cycle continues for your children, damn
There's some confusion about nooses
Guess our lessons ain't been learned
There's a contusion in our music
Guess our trauma ain't been earned
I realize my sacrifice
Don't mean shit to my masters burn
All of this shit down to the ground
Until ownership gets its turn
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
