We've been talented, all along
But think we're fortresses, made of stone
We just palaces made out of flesh and bone
Waiting for our time to shine to come on home
Lord, please bless my castle of sand
Waiting on a battle, so I handle all in my hand
The war forces more toward my door with demands
More important than the fortune that you poured down in my pan
From freestyling to recording events
Can you please reinforce on my borders and bands
I should've put it towards some plans
Want a forest, gotta water some plants (huh)
Normally, ignoring the branch is part of the course but when you hold a culture you can't
Can't parkour over a part, you gotta march forth over your art
And for your fans
When you cornered, gotta shorten your stance
Lessen your tales, Philly-shelled, don't orbit or dance
You hit a bell then report to the band, then do whatever the chorus commands
And for the Gram'
We've been talented, all along
But think we're fortresses, made of stone
We just palaces made out of flesh and bone
Waiting for our time to shine to come on home
Lord, please bless my mansions of cards
If ever challenge, let us camp in the car (uh)
Or hang a hammock from a bench in the park
A planet made of uninhabited parts (uh)
Being anonymous don't grant you some dark
Even astronomers keep a camera on Mars (uh)
Satellites attract where you are
And see your blackest night, attack it with sparks (uh)
Fireworks are not a match for a star
And fire hurts, burns, blackens, and scars (uh)
Can still emerge, learned, attractive, and sharp
From out the ashes of galactic barrage, yeah
It gets savage when they traffic mirage
It ain't no magic they in back of secret hatches and frauds
You gotta take it back to the start
You gotta tap and learn to rap from the heart, yeah
We've been talented, all along
But think we're fortresses, made of stone
We just palaces made out of flesh and bone
Waiting for our time to shine to come on home
Uh, yeah
Lord, please bless my palace of bones
My soul call my skeleton home, it's on the phone (Hello?)
Get a receiver back to Tyrone, we made a pact, nigga, I'm goin' back home (alright)
Yeah, pack my bags, stagger back to the zone
With a back full of daggers I've thrown
I'm like my own masochist, slash my wrist with a poem, and when I'm gone
Don't tamper with or sample my songs, unless you strong
Bicep emojis in the group chat to sets of burpees, don't disturb me if the booth black
I'm going through and got a bunch of baggage on my roof rack
I have a lot of habits that produce that
They gon' put they tag on it, my condolescences to the fast moments
Hope my solar system assist my slower mission and put some 'lax on it
Window to my soul, peering inside
The crib where my spirits reside , lyrics or die
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
