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vakill - sweetest way to die كلمات الأغنية

[verse i: vak!ll]

the summer was 1987
i was king of graff
wild hundreds
119th the ave
i had the south locked cleverly
i was stocked heavily
shoe polish, krylon
h-llo my name is thick as my game was sl!cker
didn’t need a black book
i could lay out a piece off of memory
half hour flat like it was ten of me
and still have time to flip my enemies names
upside down
if you was toy then that was penalty
from petty tags to full blown color crescendos
blackbooks to scratch bombin’ the bus window
i was addicted
but every time i’d stopped those flames rekindled
cuz the fame’s what i was mainly in for
one day my n-ggas gave me info
i was number one on the vandalism’s guest list
and cops is restless
that’s when the phone ring
it was five-0
sorry wrong number
sh-t it’s about to be a long summer

(phone ringing)

vak!ll: “d-mn five-o, sh-t, i gotta think fast…
i gotta get the f-ck outta here”

some ho: “you gonna answer the f-cking phone or what?”

vak!ll: “naw, don’t touch that sh-t, it’s bill collector.”

[verse ii: vak!ll]

the name i made in the streets is now a name
too strong to mention
i was drawing the right sh-t
but now i’m drawing the wrong attention
it seems my graffiti most flaunted
made me see p.d’s most wanted
i’m most wanted in particular by this plain clothes cop
named agorn
and writers for n-ggas he plague on
last year he caught one of my peeps
and pushed him off the l platform
in front of a train
and now his legs gone
and i already got two strikes for the same sh-t
three’s a felony
that would make my mothers brain flip
in the judges eyes
i’m a youth of troubled caliber
f-ck community service
i’ll do a couple calendars
i ain’t built for that
i ain’t got that kinda frame god
my brain scarred visioning
that time behind the same bars
paged memo -ss twice
sh-t i wish this fool call
(phone rings)”what up vak?”
meet me at the pool hall

vak!ll: “yo call your shot n-gga”

homie: “i got yellow on the corner dude, whats up with this taggin’ bullsh-t dude?”

vak!ll: “i’m sayin’ man, i ain’t sweatin’ that sh-t, they ain’t gonna catch me alive”

homie: “dude, you ain’t making no money off of that punk sh-t dude”

vak!ll: “it ain’t about the dough, its about hip hop yo, its hip hop”

homie: “dude your looking like sh-t with paint chips all over your f-cking legs”

vak!ll: “it’s alright though, i’m too clever, they’ll never get me….”

[verse iii: vak!ll]

quarter after nine
while creepin’ home
it grabs my mind
i’m facing ten years of math combined
and guaranteed to serve half the time
thats five years too many
for a supposedly graff
design path to crime
i need to lay low
and what would do me some good
is a couple days of street separation
i’m suffering from sleep deprivation
incarcerated nightmares
got me waking up sweatin’
in deep perspiration
i lit up a bag of boon
that’s when it hit me starin’
as the cloud shaped weed smoke
and the aerosol loomed
i’mma do the illest piece
then close every window in the room
till i’m consumed by the aerosol fumes
maybe jail got me suicidal
or maybe this will make me an
a underground legend
a sewer idol
no regrets and no sad goodbyes
sh-t i’d rather it be this way
this was the sweetest way
to die…

- vakill

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