eh yo, where did the sun go? erased by the cars, abghas haze and gun smoke through the rain as i speak my bars the light from the streets deletes the stars the air that we’re breathing is poison and people wear fake tan to avoid the sun like a demon child that destroys its mum eaten up from the inside like horse men in troy my lungs are jet black and cancerous gasoline, nicotine and ganja spliffs damage is done like when arms handlers had me praying for change like a thousand mantises persue goodness, salute the righteous dark circle in computer nightmares we cruise light years, recruiting the future fighters
ov:
i write the sickest raps that bring it back to the natural elements iller than twisted cats with twenty kids in backwards settlements settling for less than ten pence for a days wages this rap game’s baiter than ancient ways of racial hatred with thoughts contagiously spawning new waves of anger damaging innocent minds that wanna rhyme coz they’re none the wiser i flow more than 2 rival tides in a violent ocean riding the undercurrents of bodies writhing in tribal motion survive on the vital potion of liquid swords and frozen soul food holding the pole position only stroll with the wholly bold few but i’m sure that by the rise of the next cycle we’ll be forgotten confiding in dry tears by the wayside with minds rotten i fight for the common cause in the plight for the defiant brother whose only hope is to find solace in a bottle or lonely gutter if only truths were uttered every time our mouths were opened we’d be halfway to the promised land with a vision of cowards broken
tommy evans:
i’m a starving artist who harnessed the force of the beat i talk to my peeps who walk in their sleep through dimly lit victorian streets where the law of the beast enforced by police ignoring the shrieks n silent screams, violent scenes grey smog hides the sun’s vibrant beams tyrants need to make loot in grey suits caught in the same loop but can’t break loose the hate that hate produce, takes routes shapes youths and grows into billy holliday’s strange fruit the rotten apple he picked from the tree, the sick and diseased to its pips and its seeds the wickedest fiends trick and deceive the victims bereave, mans are addicted to greed but wealth corrupts till you self destruct, our target’s to uplift and lift you up