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kopain - this the type كلمات الأغنية

[verse 1]
battle wisdom; strike fast like an aneurysm
give em h-ll and diss em, be the reason that their terror is risen
animism, there is soul in these words when i twist em
everything is gold, with the magic of flow, so you listen
stories were told, about the cold of the streets and in prision
cannibalism, every man in the battle position
dog eat dog world, n-body stop on the way to the top
stop in the name of hip hop, pain is the name of the cop
i drop any perpetrator thats raping “the hop”
aim at their top, c-ck and “pop”, you dumb f-ck
re-spark my love for the art?, hear it again
“i am”; “ready to die” great to the end;
the westside and n.y. im greatfull to them
that i could write my memoirs with a mic and a pen
its like a cycle, writters inspire eachother and raise the bar a bit higher
until the teachers retire, and since their time has expired
i gotta carry the flame, take the reigns, main thing: i stay kopain
its the mister rap magician on a another composition
keeping it traditional; official and original
and visual, sh-t is so real it could have hit you bro
happiness habitual, rapping is a ritual

[chorus]
this the type of sh-t i’d write if i was still alive (6x)

[verse 1]
why am i stuck in a box? i gotta break free
walking the conventional path is a mistake b
dreams of escaping have taken me lately
i’ve been talking to satan, cause only the same can relate b
so am i crazy for debating a better fate with abaddon, mate?
try and give me sermons but it should have been a serenade
get it straight, not everyone is a worthy candidate
to seperate and elevate over the safe and everyday
some people salivate over inanimate and gather it
grabbin it, poisonous habitat
im happy in my nazareth, wishing i could ressurrect lazarus
and be the god’s son, turnin water into cabernet
meditate and levitate i know i would decapitate
the traitors at my party, ist your head on a plate
am i a sinner or saint? now that remains to be seen…
is it a dream i be chasing or the faces of green?
yo money seem to be the basis, all the places i been
so i be dreaming bout my pesos even if its a sin
rhythmical zen, smooth sh-t, like a lullaby
cuz this the type of sh-t i’d write if i was still alive

[chorus]
this the type of sh-t i’d write if i was still alive (6x)

- kopain

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