Текст, перевод и аккорды “Holdin A Jar 2”
- My intelligence is money My skin is the streets of New York My arms and legs are its fucked up bridges The subways are the worms that come through my corpse Liberty, my bitch, fucking everyone They cut my two middle fingers down but my dick is still standing I walked into Nasa, my pocket full of envelopes And this chick swinging from my dick is into dope Like hi-jackin with no planes, it's harmless Way to shermed out to kick your fucking skull into your armpits All found a dime, what's the worst that could happen Cage got a knick for 8 millimeter action No family man, even my daughter earning chasing after me with a fucking handy cam Flippin while I'm holdin a jar, tell me if I'm going too far Turn around I left some coke in the bar Can't waste the range premise on this FBI-secretary with tits unless she's a menace See the liquid kids and streams of five on her This is the minds blotter, paper-savior dipped in high blotter And I'm more patriotic with the narcotic wrapped in the little flag in the back ???? I ain't tryna train the sane, I'm playing the game Like numbers scratched off a gun, they change your name Chase the past and get the violence to spread Got my arms in the dirt tryna silence the dead Even when you win you lose in the end So I take acid out of my back and use it again Excuse me brother, why tap your spinal cord? while open-mic emcees waste vinyl cords ??? for skin, your flesh is born from it Empty the clip in your Toyota GS400 If you're too old to hustle, put the gun down, uncle That's a nice vest with your head hangin from its last muscle Go cop the album, keep me alive And my functioning creative compartment will be downsized Beyond demise, it's high maintenence Looking for drugs with my hands crawling with agents Biological, with the hands on my nostril Can't get a vaccine with half the city in a hospital All these doom-leaders, and their spoon-feeders Can take the young, and let them lose leaders I ain't tryna train the sane, I'm playing the game Like numbers scratched off a gun - they change your name Chase the past and get the violence to spread Got my arms in the dirt tryna silence the dead
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