Lyrics:
To the light of the world, oh
There's a dead man between us
Like my Poppa said bury him deep with Jesus
And watch him rise from the dead whoa oh oh
Whoa oh oh
Woke up singing a dead man's song
Smell of smoke rising in the air
Ain't no need to worry, 'bout things gone wrong
Always something going wrong,
Hey I’m back again
Check the morgue cause the past is dead
J just drop the pen
Write this then I’ll consider when
To give it all up like I’m running
you trust
And then you chose to abuse it
Finna lose it
Dug a grave by the bond I ain't wanna bury
Saying forever knowing that it's temporary
Getting
and blinding white
The empty tomb now filled their sight
Can it turn round? Doubt to joy, how?
Who can keep down, The Dead Man?
Hear the groaning of a Kingdom
material, made by a madman
It's the mic wrecker, inspector, bad man
From the bad lands of the killer, rap fanatic
Representing with the skill that's iller
than Spike Lee's Do
I'm like a sniper, hyper off the ginseng root
PLO style, buddha monks with the owls
So who's the fucking man? Meth-Tical
to survive
They wanna bury us alive
And all the rules we must abide by
at hell on earth, known as public school 75
Pretty sure, I won't be here too long -
a saw, and denim
More dressed for success than ever
Don't mess with the best man killer
Gesture of love, here's my liver
I'll give you a bunch of splinters
you decide
Quit tagging me another man's tweet or what he said
Talking about Nigerian hip-hop is dead
Old news, it's been dead since Dagrin, is
another man's tweet or what he said
Talking about Nigerian hip hop is dead
Old news it's been dead since Dagrin is what I said but they deaf
They didn't
person poster, your past
Orchestrated by the mind of a
Maniac hack and slash
Half the raps in my repertoire body
Parts in my dresser drawer
Man just can't
Illmatic
On my Rosa Parks in the back writin' like B Rabbit
How I carry it, gimme the beat and then I'ma bury it
Producin' tracks for the underground like
to the Armageddon, Lord
Know that I won't fly by that lesson
You taught me to pull out my Wesson you brought me
And I'm not stressing it softly
Get 'em up off me,
to the Armageddon, Lord
Know that I won't fly by that lesson
You taught me to pull out my Wesson you brought me
And I'm not stressing it softly
Get 'em up off me,
to the Armageddon, Lord
Know that I won't fly by that lesson
You taught me to pull out my Wesson you brought me
And I'm not stressing it softly
Get 'em up off me,
Mother and Father, both proud of the daughter
That heaven had sent them, Feleena was this baby's name.
When she was seventeen, bothered by crazy dreams
by
Damn, burning buildings, flamed up,
they couldn't take da heat so they jumped.
Man, they want to want to transform the streets we grew up
You, oh you
Had a sad urge to be wanted by fools
Welcoming those that would be
Snoopin' troupin' enveloping your family jewels
You chose to grow your
What the fuck is this shit?
Baby, you see this shit?
It's like some, it's like some walkin' dead mother fuckers
(You will not replace us)
(You
to the Armageddon, Lord
Know that I won't fly by that lesson
You taught me to pull out my Wesson you brought me
And I'm not stressing it softly
Get 'em up off me,
Straight up, nigga
Motherfuckin' Southside, nigga (word up)
Brooklyn, what
We gonna do it just like this man
Straight to your whole area (yo, yo)
Funny when you're dead how people start listenin'
If I die young bury me in satin
Lay me down on a bed of roses
Sink me in the river at dawn
Send me away
coordinate my drip in the latest Jordan
I'm pouring lean this ain't taylor port chasing cash that's my favorite sport if yu ain gettin bag it's by choice
Why
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