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Shyheim

The Bottom

  hip-hop  wu-tang  rap  new york  wu fam
636 3 часа назад

Текст песни Shyheim - The Bottom

Shyheim - The Bottom слова песни

[Intro: Shyheim]Yeah, yeah-yeah-yeah, yeahIt`s Young God, ShyheimYeah, Bottom Up Records, I`m CEO, niggaBut it`s still Wu-Tang, you heard?This goes out to all the political prisonersDLA, stay g`d up, what[Shyheim]Stay on top comrade, cuz the bottom is crowdedThe bottom is bout it, on the bottom it pops everybody wildin`On a mission wantin` the riches and the baddest bitchesGhetto chemists, gloves and masks in the kitchenDope and cut mixing, the bottom, somebody`s mother`s addictedThe bottom`s black and hispanics in prison, the bottom`s the unprivilegedThe top is the drop, the top is the yachtThe top is this fly here, Cardier watchAnother coffin with the body of my friend in itAn untimely death, and I can`t quite, comprehend itWhoever told you, being a thug is fun, lieMany nights in my cell, late at night I criedSo ashamed of myself, from myself I tried to hideThought the high would ease the pain, but it didn`tI smelt the death in the airs, walkin` through the halls of ClintonGod borns build to destroy, build to destroy borns God[Interlude: Shyheim]I wrote it for a pound in my palmsBorns a bullet in your heart, motherfuckerShit, just listen, niggaI ain`t askin` y`all niggaz to danceI ain`t askin` y`all niggaz to sing along or nothing homeyListen to your boy, fool[Shyheim]Fuck the messenger, pay attention to the messageAbout this oppression, after descretion, of the department of correctionsI`m a felon in they crooked institutions, so I`m considered a slaveAccording to the constitution, thirteenth amendmentOfficers try to discover your loved ones, when they come and visitAnd phone calls be ridiculous, three ninety nine for the firstAnd nineteen cents, these additional minutesBehind these cold walls, these d`evils, be killin` peopleLike it`s legal, tax payers, this is what your money goes toState prisons got bigger budgets than schoolsKeep `em dumb and lock `em up, warehouse, double bunk and stack `em upWhite cracker, on the top of the roof, shot me dead for spreadin` the truthWill I go down in history like Malcolm, get me my own boulevardThat my own black peoples, will go and sell crack on

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