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nytes - fiction and fake lyrics
verse 1:
tell a story, hip-hop is allegory
don’t tell a fallacy and be calloused and malice toward me
i wan’t bars, not just some candy in paint
actual substance abundance, not just abuse of the vein
you’ll spit a hundred redundancies and blow up right in front of me, but when it comes to rec-mbency can you lay in the bed that you made?
not sayin’ k!llers and og’s are the sole alone niche that can make and be great, but there’s a difference existing between fiction and fake
be mean streets or a lake, ’cause either features a bank
don’t need streams to be great, don’t need streets to be taken seriously, but wait
cash is king, so you say. give me the carrots, i’ll let you keep all the green on your plate. so i can shred ’em, eat ’em, and then have visions of great
and don’t go questioning mine, fitting scripts to your eyes, i can see ahead of the others
20-20 at 25, and no i don’t stutter
chorus:
oh. oh, come through
show me your heart is true
oh. i wanna see you
oooh, ooh
verse 2:
for someone focused on the moment, it’s only a closing opening
and no one gets a bonus, you only reap what you sow for them
nothing beyond, so why pick one, i’ll go for both of ’em
bust in the farm, causing harm to get the golden hen
once it’s apprehended, pretend to be transcendent
use the hen to get the pendant, and spend it until you’re broke again
lock it away, live off the crop or the eggs, but all the knots in the chain’s causing pain and slowly choking him
but the brood is impressive, the chicklit collective’s majestic, but i’m starting to second guess and question whether they’re opening
these eggs ain’t magic, replace the basket with caskets that float, yeah i think you might need a boat for them
sink of float, you’re gonna pollute with the smoke
fire stoked, infect the well and more than toads’ll get croaked
when fine folk get uprooted, the scope’ll begin diluting, no mint to be there producing, it’s covered in poison oak
encroaching like a weed, flows broken by the leaves
approaching tributaries and choking up the mainstream
ecosystem’s broke. no diagnosis, no hope
these kids’ll never be goats
i might not fill that bar’s queues up with this little ditty of mine
but i hope the lines provoke the q’s inside of your mind
find some time for little critters, and fight to filter the rivers
this might be a little pilfered from a nursery rhyme
time sought to remind you of the message inside
metaphorical nature needs to be nurtured to thrive
extract the flora that’s dangerous from the mulberry vines
imbue the youth with truth from in ya lines
here’s the scoop:
we’ve learned that pandering fools ain’t good for ganders or goose, so hands off the coop. the chickens come home to roost
chorus:
oh. oh, come through
show me your heart is true
oh. i wanna see you
oooh, ooh
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