K.A.S.E.
Lyrics
Uh
Yeah
Uh
Meth Lab 3
Carlo
Yeah, woo
It's all digital, revolution televised
Generations at war, police states do or die
Hoodies on, we all look alike, right?
Who am I to spook that and sit by your door and let this uzi fly?
Freedom of death, you need to respect
The souls of all the warriors past, beating my chest
I'm the icepickin' (?) leavin' ya neck
The blood risin' in your lungs now, stealin' ya breath
On that dead presidential shit, movin' through Watts
To my L.A. Confidential brothers, movin' on cops
But what you're goin' through and everybody phone don't work
'Cause in war times they cut off all communications first
Carlton Fisk the boogeyman, live in the flesh
It's a zoo, when animals kill, they callin' the vet
If you move wrong, even a step, push a button
Get you touched, close feet, I don't believe in regrets
New era, new time, different war in the streets
Devour the meek, be dyin' on the 'book live
You won't make it 'til equality come
The tabernacles filled with mothers and sons
They prayin' for us, saying
"Lord, please, just protect 'em"
"See it through a broader spectrum"
"Yo, all they do is try, come arrest 'em"
It doesn't matter what motives, they is
The bottom line, ayo, we killin' our kids
Hands like Marciano
Chillin' with my man Carlo, low down
Threw on them butter-colored wallows
Big swallow straight from out the bottle, hard to follow
It's the dark liquor mixed with the white, call that mulatto
I might slap box with Rollo
Send your head, sleepy hollow
Then shots follow 41 for Amadou Diallo
I'm like Drago
If he dies then he dies, the motto
L's full of gelato, I'm fire, no El Diablo
When it old-school, caddy El Dorado, my bravado, hit the lotto
Scratch off without a scratch on my mavado
I said capo, the man behind the chopper El Chapo
Y'all ill, but the gods iller, arigato
Touche, I ain't come to play, no Serato
Nah-uh, not today, but every Tuesday it's taco
And tell the waitress hold the avocado
The method to the madness is my way, mahalo
New era, new time, different war in the streets
Devour the meek, be dyin' on the 'book live
You won't make it 'til equality come
The tabernacles filled with mothers and sons
They prayin' for us, saying
"Lord, please, just protect 'em"
"See it through a broader spectrum"
"Yo, all they do is try, come arrest 'em"
It doesn't matter what motives, they is
The bottom line, ayo, we killin' our kids
Writer(s): Anthony Jarrod Messado, Clifford M Smith, George Coney, Justin B Trugman
Copyright(s): Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, SUNDAE SONGS LLC, Exploration Group LLC
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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