MARS (Dream Team) (feat. AZ, Redman & Styles P) (prod. by Large Professor)
Хип-Хоп блог & букинг агентство vk.com/rapafisha (rapafisha.ru) HIP-HOP blog & booking agency ¯¯\/¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯ ☻/ #rapafisha /▌ / \ [Verse 1: Cormega] Though I walk through the Valley of Death I never got lost or took cowardice steps I move honorably, gained a lot of respect Short of poverty but wouldn’t trade God for success In fact maybe I’m too advanced for crack babies My impact is similar to Basquiat paintings Visually fascinating, reality rap - not the fabricated We’ll have you anxious to sell weight My friends are patient like architects building cases The foundation is information I give in my lyrics ain’t easily assimilated, my pen is crazy I went from livin’ on the edge, to the realm of greatness Who’s wildered to exist if this is continuation of skill revealed in music we originated Then places full of [???] melanated Descendants of slaves who found ways to elevate it
[Verse 2: AZ] Gray’s anatomy, amazed at duality I inhaled to propel to [?] Rap reality, trap an actor [?] Choose carefully, use the [?] of [?] with me None after me, number four’s fashionably(?) I’m the core conquistador of the faculty [?] [?] [?] Prestigious since he [?] from the master’s league Master’s [?], placed on a mantle with a Jack Daniels [?] handle Tap the sample of proof, cop and bounce Never announce financial losses, stop the count Lost but found was both in the same breath The souls remains fresh, every dose came correct To gain respect, hoodie on for the goons So fuck the fake cop that shot little Trayvon
[Verse 3: Redman] I rep my city hard, I live for it I’m like a shotgun blast when I’m recordin' I bring down the house like Steve Martin You can smell weed when your boy Tree bought it [?] Tracks like dirty laundry, I air it out Redman like a movie, I’m Paramount That’s why they imitating me, like [?] Boy, in the club I get [?] [?] general, nigga don’t butt in Circle around the block, tell ‘em I’m coming It’s no VIP, I’m in like Bruh Man But I kick back and roll [?] up, yes And write an ill flow when it serves up, yes I stay grindin’ when the thirst’s up Hip-hop my bitch, watch how I work her!
[Verse 4: Styles P] Short nights make the days longer And your problems start to weigh on ya Gotta pray when they prey on ya Feel kinda funny when the four pounds stays on ya You think it’s much better to hustle for European luxury, American muscle It’s bricks or bread in the duffle are too long gone Beware of the leather to touch you Thinkin’ is it better to crush you or just walk away Looking at your neck, put the hawk away The pain of remain, the rain to wash the chalk away My problems way [?] walk away Swimmin’ in the waters with the great white On a highway but you don’t see my brake light Seven days in a week, I’m on the 8th night On the dark side but I ain’t bring a safe light