Letra de «Furious»
Verse 1
Ghetto gospel, im hostile, making fools of all my rivals This God grace with the earth without one disciple Facing hurt, bittersweet hope in the bible Forced belief, what if the fuck im being lied to
No disrespect to the two that raised me But the research I been doing got a nigga going crazy Hazy, atmosphere, this cat right here Write tears, your memory, they dry right there
A man without a conscious Is actually a man with a conscious Who grinded, took the word truth and defined it But in this country, thinking for yourself is like a crime bitch I need a mami to moon me, watch sun reflect that light I'mma be a star, illuminating the night Motivation, resides in my saliva So i spit, like making bodily fluids and ground touch
Nine tucked, never, why the fuckin questions I keep em guessing, got em lost in my deception Im a liar, no im not, wtf you talking bout talking about Not like it matters, tell me who ur favorite rapper out
No names, this ain't a diss song, we twist strong Practices of positive vibes, gotta decide If i dont get outta this life, other than astral projections Fuck pigments im best complexion
Of my ancestors, father of the human face U chase ass, i chase cash, only comparison is pursuing the cake I put the flame to the fronto leaf Blazing with a freak, ay yo how her throat so deep
She remind me of ex!!! When a nigga was diggin her out (Bleep) in her mouth, i said some shit, i said raw For criticism purposes l, say it was a metaphor
Fuckers say i curse to much Who they favorite rapper, of course, big, 2Pac Who not?, two shots, few shots Niggas got me tight
Verse 2
Cream of the planet My trust can't be redeemed, if ever damaged Im not pure, but the universe fuck with a nigga The youth gonna really put trust in a nigga
Our role models grew up poor Of course, college wasn't something they can afford That's why we never looked like the teacher writng on the chalk board Who decide my life, with grades
Trifling days, niggas had ‘da write essays (right essay) Like catching a come up on papa on check day Especially, chickens call him joe pesci They dig him, buried alive, respect me
A goodfella, true wise guy, im wise guy Sky high, on cloud nine getting radio time Laying the dimes, hotel rooms are store counters Press rewind if u want a supernatural encounters