#8 Songtext

von Jean Grae

What up Jean, you know theres a lot of nonsense in the streets right now, you see it right? Tell 'em whats up
[Jean Grae]
Possibly I could, dropping some knowledge I should
But I ain't finish college and I'm not a Kanye, got it? Good
Intelligent rhetoric,
Brain packed like a tenament
Aimed back at the tenants
, my face crack in a venomous rage
I really wanna blaze all you, burn you like 8 whores do
Hurl you like Florida storm furniture
Permanent marker Jean is tagging blacking up on your partners penis
Pardon the phoenix
I mark you plus I bark the meanest
Hardly elitist, I know the struggle
I mostly bubble underground like a soda below some broken rubble
At ground zero
, I get down nigga, like them brown people
Saturday Night just waiting Sonny Cheeba, lift ya
I'll levitate the scriptures just so I can see 'em better
Each and every letter was conceived by Jean
I'm the Coretta
Scott King of my day I mean,
Standing by my mate, my king
Planning for Jamaica honeymooning, vacationing
Skipping on this track like I've been scraping it
Scraping it, scraping it, bring it back
Sicker than rap. I'll stick you with a picket axe
Pick up your soul and then control it whats bigger than that?
You don't like the way I flow? "She needs more emotion"? No
I'll give you emotion its you holding your broken nose
And leave you comatose with a pound of Columbia snow
At your side when the cops arrive, they'll just say you overdosed
This ain't a battle, I would make your cranium rattle
Skull in pain as if a hundred veins had popped a dangerous madam
The Heidi Fleiss of words
Like a verse, find a purse
I could make you love me if you fuck with me violence occurs
New York pimp game the worst chick since the
Birth of the words
That I first met on a Thursday I think I'm cursed
Don't blink niggas, cause I will figure
A way to kill you in a second with my ring finger
Think quicker, my visions multiplied like liquor drinkers
I kick your sister 'til shes crippled making you step with her
Cause I could mark you too, show you what a dart could do
When your aorta's the target, nigga pardon you...