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meraj mohammed - burial lyrics
i’m trying to make sense out of everything i face
feeling so lost, can’t recognise my place
came from the bottom, didn’t leave no trace
music is my life, but money is what i chase
i’m born in a cycle, -ssigned to mimicry
imitating all the people who came before me
i want to break the chain and still make it through the days
i’ll tell you about my problems so listen as i say
i’m never going to stop and i’m going to keep it elevated
they be coming in the back with a hand full of cash
turning me into their family within a flick of finger but i don’t be f-cking with fake-heads
i’m giving ‘em lyrical death
but i call it the riddance of snitches
f-ck them hoes and riches
i’m thinking what the next is
i don’t rap about drugs, women, liquor and all those shit
stuck in the journey, just like my music is
probably would be in the same zone after apocalypse
i can slaughter emcees, but i’m too generous
drop in a kick
fit in a rhyme
k!lling the microphone
switchin my flow in every line
leaving ‘em blown in shows
i’ve been smoking and drinking
don’t know what i was thinking when i started
but it got better with every single blink and
i’m confused, got no clue
derailed from the path i choose
bad times just came through
fake friends had joined too
drowning in my own weight
from the mistake that i made
chose a girl over everything
later got to know she’s been hoe-ing since her third grade
(third grade)
she had me captivated, like bullshit is on drake, (on drake)
then comes my mom, she hates the fact i rap
and no matter what i do, she’s never proud of that
always discouraging me, but i have the artifacts
i stopped giving a f-ck, they wouldn’t look out of the map
map of the society
leading to anxiety
do you frigging feel this
and visualise what i see?
now hip-hop is my last resort
at it least it won’t turn its back on me even if i rip my vocal cords, lord!
i’m trying to find myself, i’m lost under pressure
my book’s out of shelf, contemplating about my future
the bullshit i face everyday makes it harder and harder
the voice in my head getting louder and louder
i’m almost done, get it out of my head
i might drop the mic and pretend to be dead
took me a while to realise what’s life about
it’s always not the fun, or finding ways of balling out
i mean take a look around, everybody’s has had bad times
and my one doesn’t end i just wonder why
but i still have a little bit of positivity
hoping to resurrect hip-hop, like in the 90s
hoping i’ll find a way out of the mess i am in
and maybe get over my love for nicotine
i’m trying to make sense out of everything i face
feeling so lost, can’t recognise my place
came from the bottom, didn’t leave no trace
music is my life, but money is what i chase
hooks:
funeral, down to my burial, just another day, waking up to my cereals, yeah
calendars, they be turning dates on me, turning pages randomly, i’m telling myself, nigga, rest in peace x2
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