produced by legendary M.I.C Artillery (Diseased Deities) R.I.P...
lyrics
Hallelujah
Verse 1.
He was well traveled distinguished/
Mexican, second language was English/
On the run he fled Phoenix to the burbs feeling squeamish/
Ready to purge like bullemics/
They say he deserved his journey,
Most knew he'd be dead on a gurney,
Or under the jail in need of a suberb attorney/
The wrong side of the law,
He fell so easy bc the left side of his face was a glass jaw/
They say in life u only get what u ask for so he collapsed to the asphalt/
Like runnin laps on a crash course...
Oh by the way the poor guy was going thru a bad divorce/
Now he's in custody court/
He kept a bench warrant like he sucked at sports/
Summertime he rocked a tight polo tucked in his shorts like a fuckin dork/
Meanwhile fighting addictions from all the stuff that he snorts/
One smarter move & he may have been in South Beach.. laid up at a resort/ uh huh
He said he loves his kids,
Even tho he never felt love as a kid/
Always said he'd take a slug for his kids/
At the same time felt judged by his kids/
His eldest was 17,
A queen named Coretta King/
Did I mention she had a penchant for amphetamines? /
Nightlife & gossip sites,
A latch key kid just tryin to find out what her pops was like.. under the surface
Hook
I saw a homeless man in a pair of socks/
A young lady got married just to wear the rock/
Know a kid who's patriotic, but scared of cops/
Said the White House is racist, beware of Barack..
Verse 2.
He said let my emotions run/
I'm supposed to come, to some sort of conclusion why I'm not close to some/
And your looking at him for answers like he's the sober one/
I need a moment, let me speak upon it/
It sounds fresh coming out the speakers don't it?/
I digress,
I might address quitters who quit at the slightest test/
Until you've been beaten you're never quite the best/
Obstacles seem impossible,
The mission at hands the unconquerable/
At the end of the day, here's my response to you/
Put ya blinders on,
Get ya grinding on/
Like the old saying 'mind ya own'/
Roll ya sleeves up & pick both knees up/
But when times get tough man, u bet' not freeze up/
That's a note to self/
Do whatever it takes to hold the belt/
Its a heavyweight bout, with only one way out/
That's on my feet, I don't see any other options/
Losings an illusion/
Reduce the noise pollution/
Watch the chatterbox, who moves like that of a fox/
Do it for the love.. it don't matter bout the props/
Making a living doin what u love.. my gosh what a paradox....
credits
from Perception is not Reality,
released September 5, 2013
Produced by M.I.C. Artillery (Diseased Deities), special thanks to PanAssassin, written by T.Dyson