Doomtree - Fire In His Palm / Rap Practice (SIMS) | Текст песни

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• Doomtree
• Fire In His Palm / Rap Practice (SIMS)

I knew this dude named Soap rum soaked when he wrote
Wrote songs wrote prose wrote both
Wrote tickets that brought him to both coasts
Met people that brought him to too close
Out in NY the epicenter
Trying to build the network putting in the effort
He got the work then felt the pressure on the link
Chain smoker spark to think
He start to drink The boy lookin more like Barton Fink
Called me up he said he had this sinking feeling
City of stones no rollin just reeling
Ceiling getting closer, circling like vultures
Took another sniff Said it helped him find a lift
I said they gonna find you stiff blue lipped bag zipped
Gotta know when to talk gotta know when to quit
Wrote me a song from rehab and it goes like this

And the clock ticks on with the same old song
And it sings you to sleep with the fire in its palm

I knew this girl named Jessie kept her life messy
Did anything and everything to keep from feeling empty
Moved to a new city kept her toes busy
Head spinning like a ceiling fan she feeling dizzy
Her parents left her when she was just a kiddie
Started latching on to men who made her feel safer
Dancing in the evening made the rent plenty
But hat scene was too seedy smoking bidis like a chimney
Had a boyfriend sipped bottles of Remy
His motto pop the throttle til his tank is sitting hollow
He'd get tipsy, smack the girl silly
One day she had enough and said "I'm leaving you tomorrow"
When the grip gets tighter the good get gritty
I hadn't seen her since the day she left the Minne
But today I got a call guess who pulled through
She said hope you understand back to the wall you gotta move

I knew this dude name Levi served and earned a medal
He made it home but the storm never settled
Stuffing cigarellos to keep him on the mellow
What he saw pushed him to another level
At home so many people missed the hiding Doc Jekkyl
It's a carnival for sure and the father wore yellow
They look at him wrong aint no hellos
The boy get hot and steam like tea kettles
He said they turncoats you read Othello
All things fall from kings to rose petals
You hear that echoing when the city bellows
They really getting illy with them millis in stilettos
Making face art deco but you gotta let go
Be good with yourself when all that smoke settles
Aint no thing in the world you gotta prove
And aint no stopping at all you just move