Sideline Speech

Mars Ill

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    [Verse 1: Manchild]
    I got these blind musicians watching me listen to their songs
    And I think they're catching on there's a chance that I might not belong
    They got it wrong behind the rabid barks for justice
    Where you can support the cause from where the movement never touches
    Dearly beloved, I can see the devastation so clearly
    And the night sky protects me when I'm running with the moon
    I wanna help the lepers, I just don't want their sickness near me
    I guess if you can't sing the song, you can try to hum the tune
    I got these dues I'm paying and I guess I'm almost even
    When I was stepping to the A.M., I could have sworn I caught y'all sleeping
    I rhyme for a reason beyond the regional limits that block them
    My double-sided tongue is sharp and it can't be boxed in
    They're caught between some rock
    rap fusion garbage
    And a hard place to taste the truth and everybody makes do
    HEY YOU! Yeah, I'm sorry, you don't get to play today
    But after my crew wins the game, you can soak the coach with Gatorade
    It's safe to say you're a ways away from the action
    Your image is imaginary and this song is love-tapping you on the shoulder
    And asking, "Is this what you had planned?"
    While I'm slapping 'em senseless, you can feel free to bystand...

    [Hook]
    Can't really see from the cheap seats. Can't hear unless you listen
    Can't get on the field and play if you don't got the right equipment
    Can't hear what you're saying unless you step up to the mic
    Wanna see life? Well this is what it looks like
    Can't see from the cheap seats. Can't hear unless you listen
    Can't get on the field and play if you don't got the right equipment
    Can't hear what you're saying unless you step up to the mic
    Wanna see life? Well this is what it sounds like...

    [Verse 2: Manchild]
    Conspiracy theorist backpackers, you don't have to run any faster
    The government's not really after you, kiddo, you're just a rapper
    But slave masters to exist, so point at them and wave your fist
    Media's agenda becomes the mark on your head and plus your wrist
    This is just in case you doubted that Mars ILL was about it
    We linked with Bigg Justoleum for this public service announcement
    You are not your outfit or the car that you drive
    Commercials keep you needing what you don't really need to survive
    You grow sedated, addicted to a lifestyle
    Planned parents become barren, juggling a choice and a child
    Of course it's a trial to speak loud and walk straight
    I've found a voice is a terrible thing to waste
    Wake Up! Take up your cross-section of the populace and follow
    You're not promised tomorrow
    So just move, move, we can't stop speaking until they all know
    We're not promised tomorrow...

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    [Hook]

    [Verse 3: Bigg Jus]
    Seminal mimicry trickery gloomy cavalry garrisons
    Who battle charlatans who love night targeting
    The faintest comparison imbalancement crucially embarrassing
    So woefully inadequate
    Staring at other rhyme ancient and tailored so massive
    Armchair quarterback chemical ali HAZMAT
    You're just a little boy in a bubble with unrealistic dreams of a rap body double
    And rhyming as a meal-ticket
    That's why this culture got you lovesick
    Born word eternal, life orbit, Keebler elf timing
    Couldn't even flow on beat if the kick and snares were color coded
    With dreams of a new bullet-proof 7 all dubs and silvery
    But you lack any bass in your voice, cadence or delivery
    And there's already been two Agatha Christie unsolved rapper murder mysteries
    Don't let the sharks smell the bloody chum in the water
    And start a feeding frenzy
    Sometimes I feeling like I'm in an underground purgatory
    Trapped between materialistic playa gunfire
    And suburban nerdy voice, funny voice falsetto
    War prone with a howitzer patrolling the 33rd parallel rhyming no fly zones
    With homeland security all tainted and corrupted
    If you ain't coming with that '88 Daddy Kane R-A-W
    Like it was on the eve of destruction
    Trust me, don't even touch it
    Or get left on the side of the road and circled by buzzards
    Or fossilized in some tar pit
    We call it craps now they be triple and doubling it
    Ever since Tupac's style gave birth to quintuplets
    Biting is not a birthright, you starry eyed chipmunk
    Gazing in the 18-wheeler headlights, waiting for the collision
    Soccer-mommy waste of battle ammunition
    So younguns, we lop 'em off earlier than circumcision
    Stay hidden, Jiminy Crickets and all is forgiven
    This was craft worked at Dust's crib
    Then manchild slid to haunted gorilla silver back mountain lion of Judah
    These bear paws hide zirconium claws made for pouncing
    Even though I don't eat meat anymore
    It's just order of selection prototype
    MC's look tasty like melon, tofu and curry rice. Mmmmmm
    Succulent with the slightest hint of lime
    Way up in the nosebleed seats with torn ACL's on the sidelines
    Coming rougher than one time with colorful things that go bump in the night
    And magical 180 reverse suplex clotheslines
    You need to slow down and think twice
    You ain't a risk taker with the flow. You're a risk taker with your life...

    [Hook]

    Información de la canción

    Composición: G. Lamar Owens

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