paroles de chanson The Saga (remix) - Cormega

[Verse 1: Cormega]
"The Saga" begins
I′m a reflection of the drama within
The ghetto I live in, niggaz Moms on crack, Pops just disappeared
First time you get locked up - who really cares?
I see a little snotty nosed kid with his sneakers on backwards
Sleep on a mattress, when I go to make a sale
At times I wonder, are we goin' straight to Hell?
Or does God realize we′re tryin' to make it as well
My sleep is interrupted by food on the stove
Not gun shots, we're immune to those
Some of my friend′s first bids is two to fours
Others are on the run with huge rewards
Mothers watch Son′s walk through the door
For the last time 'til they go view at the morgue
Life is deep, we all just tryin′ to eat
Rap's a mental narcotic, I supply the streets
[Chorus: Cormega]
Look at my life; you see white coke and black roses
And tear shed for passed soldiers
We all walkin′ a path chosen
From the cradle 'til the casket′s lowered
I still got the black ski mask to throw on
But I can get richer off the tracks I flow on
I'd be lyin' if I said I wasn′t hustlin′ no more
[Verse 2: Cormega]
Life ain't fair, shorty pregnant with nowhere to live
Sleepin′ in a crack-house, 'cause she don′t got no relatives
Her friends wanna drink brew and beef about whose sale it is
Now she's gettin′ hungry, she could smell the marijuana
Seen the picture vividly, as if Picasso's spirit entered me
Starin' at the Heavens, secluded in a tinted Jeep
But sick of hearin′ eulogies
I realize my nigga Blue is - a reminder of my past like Greek ruins
Yet his seek keeps bloomin′
Unaffected by police intrusions
Or street illusions, we were consumed with
I've even grown away from people I grew wit
Who only seem concerned when they need me to do shit
My mood could switch easily from smooth to ruthless
We ain′t built the same, so mind games are useless
Times change, like the climate, I change
Check the forecast, I reign
[Chorus: Cormega]
[Verse 3: Cormega]
Live niggaz I rep for, deceased, I pour Moet for
Those incarcerated, my heart is wit y'all
I know at times it gets hard behind penitentiary bars
And once free you realize you′re mentally scarred
If not physically, if subjected to correctional facilities
Prepare for your future, to the best of your ability
Prosper, otherwise you've been conquered
Blowin′ up your mother phone, so she can send you a bop
Son, I sit inside my residence
And thank God I'm blessed with this
Poetical gift, evident in every ghetto
Like graffiti and crack sales
And cabs who won't stop for Black Males
Undercovers givin′ younger Brothers bad stares
Fours clap, Dogs crap in the grass here
You love to hear ′cause "The Saga" began here
And MC's are fictitious, yet there′s actual facts here
Like the Bible said, Jesus had napped hair
[Chorus: Cormega]