| ПМ 9*18
Сообщения: 4,770
Регистрация: 06.07.2001 Откуда: H-town, TX | 
20 ноября 2001, 05:23
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#1 (ПС)
| Gangsta вобщем чуваки. был я тут уже один раз со своим текстом (Асфальт), но вам никому не понравилось. хотя это и неудивительно, та тема была более под рэпкор ориенторованна.
вобщем с тех пор прошло много времени, я понаписал кучу текстов. вот еще один, на английском. очень бы хотелось услышать мнения настоящих рэпперов...
I see the H-town, westside downtown, couple of my brothers going physically and mentally down.
I feel the wound, it cuts me from inside;
I hear the sound, there is nowhere to hide.
Welcome to the game called life, no way to win, fight for the blood money and live in your own sin.
You are the God, you are nothing, you are the one, you are bluffing holding a blank gun.
Two shots in the air, and cops are right there, smiling in your face and getting ready to take care.
Three of us are on the street holding possessions, pointing on the pigs fresh stolen Smith and Wessons.
Second squad, my bro has bleeding in his throat, bullets don’t give a fuck whether they fly or not.
Lines of the people, holding heads on the concrete, and I’m getting filled with a lead.
D-E-A-T-H - a lot of pictures, a lot of memories, a lot of sleazy bitches.
A lot of this and that I can’t breath as well, I see the demons are coming to take my soul back to Hell.
I wonder if they have a ghetto over there, so I could sell my dope to the Devil, he doesn’t care.
Shit, what’s that? My body is on the bed, with all those machines attached to my chest and head.
Arms and legs are cut, but I can breathe, left my soul and heart on the concrete.
Two others died, they dyed pavement with their heads, and I stayed alive to suffer until the death.
I’m trapped… with no escape from myself, playing the same scenario over and over again.
I can’t run, ‘cause I got no legs, I can’t cut my veins ‘cause a got no hands.
I can’t sell the dope anymore, I’m out of business, I’m out of living, out of holidays and week-days.
I’m out of money, out of life, out of game. Living on the poverty that’s my perfect shame.
Let’s play… I see the H-town in my window, blind follows blind going deeper in the hole.
Kids are selling dope, getting glocks, chicks and money and I suck my dick hoping to die in a hurry.
I’m nothing…. Lived like shit and shitted well. My broken body has become my own holding cell.
And for all my life I made one thing well, I got a reservation in the oven of Hell...
это про Хьюстон. я живу там. вобщем, мне будет приятно почитать ваши отзывы, какими бы они не были. |
