paroles de chanson The Last Rhymers - HiddenRoad

Rapper, poet, hip hop artist
Fuck a label, it's whatever you want to call it
It doesn't mean shit whatever I say my art is
I live through the ears of the listener, hearken
To my speech, I've walked through all types of hell
Fell down, got up, tied the shoestrings myself
Pick up the mail, then I rip up the flow
See, think, act, how I get up and go
Manifest reality, don't challenge me
Tight rope performer on 'roids how I'm balancing
Rap acrobatics, but they not feeling me
Well fuck 'em, this one's for my real heads who here with me
Neaality, Hidden and John Rhymer
Smoking up the joint, like a kitchen without a timer
The small minded don't get it, we spit it viper
Brainwashed mumble kids, get the fuck out of my cipher