Текст песни MetaMorpheus - Sa-Roc
What
you
don't
know
is
we
are-more
than
the
city.
We've
been
so
close
yet
so
far-ain't
that
a
pity
Trading
freedom
for
just
enough-land
of
the
plenty
No
one's
gon
change
it
but
us.
It
don't
seem
real
that
I've
been
away
for
ten
years.
The
scene
feel
familiar
from
Benning
road
to
Ben
Hill.
Landscape
full
of
crabs,
snakes
in
the
grass,
You
don't
watch
em,
They
might
off
u
with
a
blade
from
the
killing
fields.
Homie,
I'm
a
sharecroppers
daughter
and
I
still
owe,
Niggas
here
was
worth
their
weight
in
gold,
Patna-Steel
Pulse.
Now
we
on
the
sidelines
tryna
to
find
an
ally
and
An
affinity
for
Allah
will
turn
u
into
a
scapegoat.
And
every
since
Jansports
and
Sambas
I
been
on
the
Run.
Place
got
me
sleep
with
one
eye
open
wide,
insomnia.
Thought
I
paid
my
dues
watching
my
muses
burning
rocks,
But
obviously
I
am
still
mired
to
a
debt
that
I
can't
wander
from.
That's
Choc
city.
Buck
fifty
for
the
glocks-any
stock.
Where
Hustlas
sell
Dasani
to
Atlantic
Ocean-penny
stock.
Luster
starts
to
fade
when
the
fresh
coats
every
winter
stop.
I
learned
all
that
I
needed
tween
these
educated
city
blocks.
What
you
don't
know
is
we
are-more
than
the
city.
We've
been
so
close
yet
so
far-ain't
that
a
pity
Trading
freedom
for
just
enough-land
of
the
plenty
No
one's
gon
change
it
but
us.
Bars
like
vocal
analyses,
Probing
deep
in
your
maladies,
how
the
freak
can
you
challenge
me.
I'm
the
people's
champ,
Ali.
See
this
is
liquid
I'm
leaking
into
your
psyche
Enticing
those
seeds
to
flowers,
by
sonnet
peep
the
analogy.
Maybe
it
was
providence
polishing
this
crystal
from
gravel.
Cuz
high
society
shun
u
after
existence
in
Babel.
No
one
seems
to
understand
us,
words
are
too
twisted
in
fragments.
Crumbling
and
decomposing
on
the
lips
of
the
tragic.
Despite
it
all
the
writers
with
a
voice
one
dimensional.
Their
One
liners
fraught
with
cliches
non-original.
Imma
slice
and
spiralize
these
charades,
son-elliptical.
Naked
truth
in
the
midst
of
masquerades
is
so
critical.
Daddy's
in
the
bottom
of
the
bottle
cuz
he
think
I'm
lost.
Keep
verses
bright
with
modicums
of
shade
to
get
my
point
across.
This
is
just
but
one
of
many
pages
in
the
catacombs.
The
makings
of
a
Pharoah
from
favelas
that's
ironic,
huh?
What
you
don't
know
is
we
are-more
than
the
city.
We've
been
so
close
yet
so
far-ain't
that
a
pity
Trading
freedom
for
just
enough-land
of
the
plenty
No
one's
gon
change
it
but
us
![Sa-Roc - Metamorpheus](https://pic.Lyrhub.com/img/v/z/t/u/tepi4vutzv.jpg)
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