Sole все тексты (слова) песен, переводы, видео, клипы

(Chorus)
I've been so many places
In my life and time
Yes, I've sung a lot of songs
I've made some bad rhymes

Top of the world
Yet I aint never left my head to turn and look back

chorus:
cops ain't shit to me. jobs ain't nothing
but free pens and long distance calls.
thought i had it all, the god got birth control.
the white man's the fucking devil.
i wanted to be black at age fourteen,
so when they say i don't respect the culture,
truth is, i only rap 'cause i ain't smart enough to write a book.

honesty is the key...
did i get crossed out? absolutely,
everybody's etched in a little piece of themselves, we're sweating though.
fountain of youth like isabelles and jesabelles, no wedding bells, queen elizabeth.
holy motherfucker smack your gauntlet into a labyrinth.
escher crustified seen through walls hand carved puppets
don't make a madman out of god's gifts.
x marks something magnificent if it's meant to be,

Thank the loyal servants for being so loyal,
soon they'll be happy and very safe;
if not, sent off like a pigeon with his head cut off.
if it wasn't for the guillotine, there would be no umbilical
cord. isn't it pitiful? at our pinnical,
they make it sound so pinnocchio.
that's how i know it's so dumb, it could even write its own article.
give me a break, the great big break that breaks your back

Banging rocks together makes sunshine
Banging heads with rocks 'till blood comes: the writing process
Everything has diapers on and smells like
It's time for a change
Or for some holes in the flag
My whole perspective relies solely on questions
That can't have answers
Like everyone oin their assumptions

Seven thousand day cough

Seven thousand day cough. my lungs of an old woman
Of a racist race called man, I'm a word machine
Without enough words to be composed or the worms to decompose
My old song body pretty for the showing. party women with painted faces
Only pretty for their lawyers, everything's illegal
Cause they're pretending to breathe

I didn't vote; now I'm rolling with the Commies
But I never took lessons from no hip-hop Nazis
Keep throwing darts because the world is made out of plastic
Made out of pigs
Why bother to shower, there is no power, it was all built empty?
I could have been a lot bigger by now, but I've loved being a threat
Give me some of that good old-fashioned electrotherapy
So what if I dress like a terrorist, walk like a bug

Experts: go home, nothing to see, not here, not forever
The 90's thinking man, 2002 dead man in us all
In search for volunteers for the death of passion, and it
Put nipples in the sky, the womb is all around us
The alien racetrack is us; afraid to make eye contact is us
Walking blindly, counting credits we'll never see
Green balloons carry your cars away to plant in Egypt
To be a plant in the sidewalk of a wheelchair

My phone rang, I converse with the busy signal
Why can't they let me die in pieces?
I don't want any more food or condolences, let my people go
Burn off this useless flesh and make meals of my pestilence
Lessons are my tournaquets
maybe I've seen too much and not had enough
Either way, this is my last entry forever
Please don't let my children read this

A good portion of devotion on sale
To the stale-skinned rummage-happy
Everyday troop
Got my beels on: it keeps my ears ringing
And peers watching
Wishing I'd stop
Quietly judging with my mouth open
And hands on the switch

I'm not the priziest horse or the classiest fighter

with shattered glass in my voice

writing my name on the wall with the fingers my highschool gave me; I'm still

counting electric sheep at night, in love with an electric blanket