Police in the white vans/
Screaming til our head split/
Belly ache from trash food/
Shit seem to hurt the most for real/
The block remembers what God forgives/
There go another one/
Lost some captains for capping/
Lost real ones for laughing/
Gained clarity in the pattern/
Taste like receding gums and a hairline to match it/
it get old...mad quick,
Will my kids live to see they own magic,
Will the will of my legacy match it,
Can't afford to lose, I'll immerse in advanced tactics
bold in my stupidity/
Surely you know you don't know diddly/
The shifting world literally breaks and reforms,
my folks earned they little things but it's more that they owed,
there's more to KO,
brick and build a bridge to Mordor with some Dwarves who brought the payload/
Gnomenclature is a well of what fate told,
language adapted from years off a Mayflower bank roll, colonizers sank low, ad-apted to tank tolls and expanded folds of the operation accordingly/
Courting these flashes of success, fashioning tighter adapters and lengthier cords for when shows get put on/
Look back on my scorn and I laughed at how long it was lasting/
this whole life has been taxing,
I stepped into space where I could let it go/
The ethereal quality of the perfect words to paint a mental image; Yoh does this in a way that seems almost nonchalant. You'd be doing yourself a disservice by not walking this path. Nakama.
A coalescence of New York morbidity and incisive narrative, Amani and KVU managed to capture the paranoia-inducing motion of a Metropolitan dystopia. Dark, moody, powerful, palpable. Nakama.
When we hip-hop artists say we create a space in our music, Namir takes it several steps further and introduces you to an entire universe. Take the journey with Aphelion's Traveling Circus. Nakama.