You Know It's About

(альбом: The Night's Gambit - 2013)

Your skills are now at the point of spiritual insight
"So?"
It is now time for you reclaim our lost honor
"Yes, I understand"

Yeah, it's about
They know it's about
Rhymes known as limestone
The flow is the grout
They hear my voice

They know it's about
That pain, that gutter
That 'caine, that flame, that butter (that butter, butter!)
They know it's about

This is how the night starts

Left behind my childish ways
Deal in adult matters for petty pay
Work every day like there's no Sabbath from Flatbush
The crack push, get popped for 'lo fabrics
We bubble and shovel to the snow addicts
Porch archdiocese, each ave's its own parish
This my pulpit and I don't preach no bullshit
Want beginner's luck? Slim bub for the full flip
Fuck the planning; we stuck the landing
Baggy clothes gladly tuck the cannon
Nothing diminish the business of the scrambling
Need spinach, we ain't finished till we handling
(We ain't finished fuck that)
Never scraped the plate, ate it all
Wanna reach for the ceiling? Play the wall
We was boys on that back street
Don't sing it, better bring it cause we pack heat
Dumb smelly in the underbelly, trying to break through
When slabs crush didn't have much, we made do
When heaters flying leave you lying, I stayed true
Might find at nighttimes our lifeline debut
Curtains draw dirt poor but come work the store
Person heard you snore on a tour? You get hurt for sure
Nimble creeping, simple greeting's words of war
A show of rough from "Yo what up?" Observe your door
Recruit a hard shooting guard, stay on point
They come for dinner it's a front and center display, long joint
Keep your wolf tickets, only cowards bought it
Here apes flex, you take steps and power forward

They know it's about (yea)
That pain, that gutter (that gutter!)
That 'caine, that flame, that butter (that butter, butter!)
They know it's about (they know it's about)

None rival, my catalog's a slum bible
Not the right course but with white horse, unbridled
In the 'Ville pumping steel, hunt until we feel full
Home cold as Poconos fill rodent holes with steel wool
You capture your stature firing a full clip
We line the street beefing, trying to eat dying for bullshit
With the toaster racked, it roast your fabric
And friends if conflict ever ends we post traumatic
Quote for better, wrote the letter, "Sincerely yours"
To heal the sores, where the real is forged
Pen fire, from empire to golden state
I write it loud, incite a crowd, then motivate
Couple infractions, scratching prose admitting it
On quiet track rewrite that for those illiterate

They know it's about
That pain, that gutter
That 'caine, that flame, that butter (that butter, butter!)
They know it's about
(They know it's about)

Some are ready for action
Some are not

We need emotional content