Songtexte Man Down - Grieves , Chris Webby

I don't deny there is some strange evolutionary process going on
But mankind won't be destroyed
The fact that you and I are working here today (Rhyme Sayers), is evidence

Check it, it's been a minute, now, I'm back up on these beats
Tell your mom if I ain't call her back, she didn't make the team (sorry, mom)
I'm on some other shit, go on pick it up, try to run with it
Stupid motherfuckers, getting rich up on some mumble shit
A mad house, camel clutch, the tap out
Suck a bunch of dicks (suck a dick, fuck), if you been sleeping on my camp now
We doing this for decades, homie we don't plan on standing down we're coming through your speakers
They like mayday, mayday, man down! (Ooh-ooh)
Mayday, mayday, man down!

Fuck with me, and see
You keep talking about your hustle, like you're out here in these streets (ha)
Ain't nobody know your name, you out here acting like a bitch
And if life don't pull your card, I got some homies that'll roll up, and assist
Tell me something, do believe you in fate? (Do you?)
When it comes down to that sacrifice, can you even relate?
Ain't nobody out here acting right, they talking out the side of they mouth
I get they momma on the phone, I tell her what I'm about

It's man down (down, down, mayday)
I'm sick of playing around ('round, 'round, mayday)
They stepping up, out of bounds (bounds, bounds, mayday)
Surrounded by all these clowns, the radio ran it out
Mayday, it's man down (down, down, mayday)
I'm sick of playing around ('round, 'round, mayday)
They stepping up, out of bounds (bounds, bounds, mayday)
Surrounded by all these clowns, the radio ran it out
Mayday, it's man down (down, down, down)

Yeah
Grieves, what's up man?
Let's do this

Yeah, now, go ahead, and gather (yeah) every motherfucking rapper (yeah)
Line 'em up, I'll knock 'em down
These bowling pins about to scatter, I won't spare nobody, bitch
I'm bowling nothing, but strikes (bowling nothing, but strike)
And while these streams are going up, I'm about to double my price (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Spit so cold, that when I be touching the mic (yeah)
I'm a leave it covered in ice (yeah)
Bobby Drake with all the stuff that I write
And I ain't fucking with this whole new wave of colorful types (yeah)
To me, the game is black, and white, like it's a wonderful life (yeah, yeah, yeah)

You either got it, or don't really
How much more simple can it get?
This ego over talent thing, see, I'm just not a fan of it
And now, my shit is popping, but you see how I handle it
I don't got a stuntman, I'm so Jackie Chan with it
Seven strains of cannabis, crate them by the kilo (kilo, kilo)
Jamo in my bottle, then I chase it with some Tito's (Tito's, Tito's)
Body every wack motherfucker that I see you
You think you got a heart of steel, bitch, I'm magneto!

It's man down (down, down, mayday)
I'm sick of playing around ('round, 'round, mayday)
They stepping up out of bounds (bounds, bounds, mayday)
Surrounded by all these clowns, the radio ran it out
Mayday, it's man down (down, down, mayday)
I'm sick of playing around ('round, 'round, mayday)
They stepping up out of bounds (bounds, bounds, mayday)
Surrounded by all these clowns, the radio ran it out
Mayday, it's man down (down, down, down)