Текст песни Jackin' for Decibels

[Kevlaar 7] You've been at it for years, paper pads, ink pens Studio time in tears, not to mention the blood Sending prayers above, the hard times you endured Through the hip-hop crack, you love opening major artist shows Not looked at us one of the pros, you still got us grounds Being featured on Lyricist Lounge, stretch growth, your head pounds Niggas by your house licking rounds Praying you'll get the luck to escape the higher ground 'Cause you're growing, and the people is liking your sound They think you're a new star found, you got the Unsigned Hype Niggas try to bite but they don't know with a couple of more shows We'll see how the ticket sales grow Your time is coming, you're eager to sign to a label Any one would do, as long they're paying you And the box is playing you You thinking you're blowing up But your money, this small time company is fucking up I want my money, where's my check? (Next week) That's what you said last week and the week before that, see (To this I don't anyone would pay you) Dude fuck this label, I'm jacking you and give me the safe to I should shoot you in the temple but I just bust you in the leg duke POP!, attempted murder, eating soy bean burgers and lifting weights Three years, May 27th, your release date I'm gon' get off on a new foot, job ap, and believe in music Go home and write lyrics, my write hand I abuse it Y'all took my pride and bruised it, crooked record company fable's Be smart with my heart and chose some much more respectable label Careful, don't let the conniver label bullet graze you [Bronze Nazareth] I never knew that this life would be so hard Music fuse width from the contention of vocal cords I hope to define morals with this weapon stronger than the sword But my knees I've bruised for praying to the Lord for a re-cause Somehow my piece of mind turned to your piece of mind Wanted first of the month just from Hype Unsigned But shit is hectic, my wrist laggered off from writing the message Five mics my innerceptic, but I'm my own skeptic You're paying me to pay you back after laying my intelligence on wax When it's this level I strive to perform that MAN FUCK THAT!, I guess I just gotta go independent Since you're talking this bullshit while you're pushing me back 'til December And I'm the most venomous lyricist you could remember Had a five star album done in one fucking week Got your manager and CEOs kissing my ass cheek But now the outlook is bleak, bitch ass turned to a new leaf Got a nigga who could make bitches dance instead of spitting verbal heat WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT? Thought we was down niggas with rap? Now I'm burning on the back 'cause you wife wants a singing contract She'll blast you, clack-clack, hold on, let me put this hammer back You are not worth, never reaching my object Just gimme my last check and I'll leave with my respect And I might not blow up 'cause the parties my tracts won't show up But I'm content with lyrics that keep minds from corrupt What? What? What? *echo*Bronze Nazareth f/ Kevlaar 7 - Jackin' for Decibels - http://ru.motolyrics.com/bronze-nazareth-f-kevlaar-7/jackin-for-decibels-lyrics.html