Selfportrait 歌词
| 歌曲 | Selfportrait |
| 歌手 | Blue Scholars |
| 专辑 | Blue Scholars |
| 下载 | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Geologic | |
| (Always writing... always revising) | |
| Shorty feels the pressure on his shoulders as he's liftin' it | |
| Wonders why the elders always tell him not to question it | |
| Options at the bottom of the ladder got him desperate | |
| But all he ever wanted was a weapon to protect him with | |
| Riding a 36 through the veins of the beacon | |
| The water is the heart, its rainin' when its beatin' | |
| In the city that I sleep in I'm dreamin' while I'm awake | |
| The miserable escape but they're too high to ponder faith | |
| But who am I, to use their plight to illustrate a rhyme | |
| With everything around me that I've never had to live | |
| But I observe the inequalities to serve the people properly | |
| Tell them that their freedom isn't found in private property | |
| Prostitutes are more than just the folks who sell their bodies | |
| See this ******t applies to those whose souls are a commodity | |
| I can hear the colony callin' me back to be | |
| The bullet in the belly while they lock, load, and squeeze | |
| Rebel with a pen lettin' off buckshots in threes | |
| Rewriting what it is into what it ought to be | |
| They made a mockery out of the possibility | |
| But under constant revision is the poem that I be | |
| Rebel with a pen lettin' off buckshots in threes | |
| Rewriting what it is into what it ought to be | |
| I be the emcee in the place not to be | |
| But under constant revision is the poem that I be | |
| Shorty feels oppression on his shoulders as he's liftin it | |
| Wonders why the elders always tell him not to question it | |
| Conjuring the courage just to conquer whats been killin him | |
| He says its ****** up cause he knows no other synonym | |
| Hidden from the truth, seen youths turned to troops | |
| Whos goal at 21 is to turn 22, true tuition's too high | |
| and those with the privelage to pay don't listen, it's a shame, go figurin' | |
| The name of the father, the son and holy lyrics | |
| I suppose those who know what I'm sayin' when they hear it | |
| Might rage against the system, or hate me for dissin' | |
| The house in which they live in as a slave to the rhythm | |
| But I walk the broken sidewalk paved with the magic | |
| Of those who walk past it, just to survive traffic | |
| If paybacks a ******, gravity's a bastard | |
| Avenues I used to call familiar turned backward | |
| Rebel with a pen lettin' off buckshots in threes | |
| Rewriting what it is into what it ought to be | |
| They made a mockery out of the possibility | |
| But under constant revision is the poem that I be | |
| Rebel with a pen lettin' off buckshots in threes | |
| Rewriting what it is into what it ought to be | |
| I be the emcee in the place not to be | |
| But under constant revision is the poem that I be | |
| Yo.. shorty's getting grown, old enough to read the messages | |
| Understands the elders as he then begins to question them | |
| One generation handed down what they've inherited | |
| Another generation rewriting the master narrative | |
| Older folks overdose on broken hopes often | |
| Children then begin to grow comatose and lost up | |
| In the clutches of the wickedest fingers | |
| Indicative of the systems inhibited | |
| Ability to listen to the voice of the dyin who've been tired of cryin' | |
| Nightsticks fall where projectiles are flyin' | |
| Through a straight path narrow like the gap between heaven and hell | |
| They skip class cause they know it's a jail, true | |
| Students prevail when the knowledge is passed | |
| But others seem to fail sittin flat on their ass | |
| And now I be the emcee in the place not be | |
| Under constant revision is the poem that I be | |
| Rebel with a pen lettin' off buckshots in threes | |
| Rewriting what it is into what it ought to be | |
| I be the emcee in the place not to be | |
| But under constant revision is the poem that I be |
| zuo qu : Geologic | |
| Always writing... always revising | |
| Shorty feels the pressure on his shoulders as he' s liftin' it | |
| Wonders why the elders always tell him not to question it | |
| Options at the bottom of the ladder got him desperate | |
| But all he ever wanted was a weapon to protect him with | |
| Riding a 36 through the veins of the beacon | |
| The water is the heart, its rainin' when its beatin' | |
| In the city that I sleep in I' m dreamin' while I' m awake | |
| The miserable escape but they' re too high to ponder faith | |
| But who am I, to use their plight to illustrate a rhyme | |
| With everything around me that I' ve never had to live | |
| But I observe the inequalities to serve the people properly | |
| Tell them that their freedom isn' t found in private property | |
| Prostitutes are more than just the folks who sell their bodies | |
| See this t applies to those whose souls are a commodity | |
| I can hear the colony callin' me back to be | |
| The bullet in the belly while they lock, load, and squeeze | |
| Rebel with a pen lettin' off buckshots in threes | |
| Rewriting what it is into what it ought to be | |
| They made a mockery out of the possibility | |
| But under constant revision is the poem that I be | |
| Rebel with a pen lettin' off buckshots in threes | |
| Rewriting what it is into what it ought to be | |
| I be the emcee in the place not to be | |
| But under constant revision is the poem that I be | |
| Shorty feels oppression on his shoulders as he' s liftin it | |
| Wonders why the elders always tell him not to question it | |
| Conjuring the courage just to conquer whats been killin him | |
| He says its up cause he knows no other synonym | |
| Hidden from the truth, seen youths turned to troops | |
| Whos goal at 21 is to turn 22, true tuition' s too high | |
| and those with the privelage to pay don' t listen, it' s a shame, go figurin' | |
| The name of the father, the son and holy lyrics | |
| I suppose those who know what I' m sayin' when they hear it | |
| Might rage against the system, or hate me for dissin' | |
| The house in which they live in as a slave to the rhythm | |
| But I walk the broken sidewalk paved with the magic | |
| Of those who walk past it, just to survive traffic | |
| If paybacks a , gravity' s a bastard | |
| Avenues I used to call familiar turned backward | |
| Rebel with a pen lettin' off buckshots in threes | |
| Rewriting what it is into what it ought to be | |
| They made a mockery out of the possibility | |
| But under constant revision is the poem that I be | |
| Rebel with a pen lettin' off buckshots in threes | |
| Rewriting what it is into what it ought to be | |
| I be the emcee in the place not to be | |
| But under constant revision is the poem that I be | |
| Yo.. shorty' s getting grown, old enough to read the messages | |
| Understands the elders as he then begins to question them | |
| One generation handed down what they' ve inherited | |
| Another generation rewriting the master narrative | |
| Older folks overdose on broken hopes often | |
| Children then begin to grow comatose and lost up | |
| In the clutches of the wickedest fingers | |
| Indicative of the systems inhibited | |
| Ability to listen to the voice of the dyin who' ve been tired of cryin' | |
| Nightsticks fall where projectiles are flyin' | |
| Through a straight path narrow like the gap between heaven and hell | |
| They skip class cause they know it' s a jail, true | |
| Students prevail when the knowledge is passed | |
| But others seem to fail sittin flat on their ass | |
| And now I be the emcee in the place not be | |
| Under constant revision is the poem that I be | |
| Rebel with a pen lettin' off buckshots in threes | |
| Rewriting what it is into what it ought to be | |
| I be the emcee in the place not to be | |
| But under constant revision is the poem that I be |
| zuò qǔ : Geologic | |
| Always writing... always revising | |
| Shorty feels the pressure on his shoulders as he' s liftin' it | |
| Wonders why the elders always tell him not to question it | |
| Options at the bottom of the ladder got him desperate | |
| But all he ever wanted was a weapon to protect him with | |
| Riding a 36 through the veins of the beacon | |
| The water is the heart, its rainin' when its beatin' | |
| In the city that I sleep in I' m dreamin' while I' m awake | |
| The miserable escape but they' re too high to ponder faith | |
| But who am I, to use their plight to illustrate a rhyme | |
| With everything around me that I' ve never had to live | |
| But I observe the inequalities to serve the people properly | |
| Tell them that their freedom isn' t found in private property | |
| Prostitutes are more than just the folks who sell their bodies | |
| See this t applies to those whose souls are a commodity | |
| I can hear the colony callin' me back to be | |
| The bullet in the belly while they lock, load, and squeeze | |
| Rebel with a pen lettin' off buckshots in threes | |
| Rewriting what it is into what it ought to be | |
| They made a mockery out of the possibility | |
| But under constant revision is the poem that I be | |
| Rebel with a pen lettin' off buckshots in threes | |
| Rewriting what it is into what it ought to be | |
| I be the emcee in the place not to be | |
| But under constant revision is the poem that I be | |
| Shorty feels oppression on his shoulders as he' s liftin it | |
| Wonders why the elders always tell him not to question it | |
| Conjuring the courage just to conquer whats been killin him | |
| He says its up cause he knows no other synonym | |
| Hidden from the truth, seen youths turned to troops | |
| Whos goal at 21 is to turn 22, true tuition' s too high | |
| and those with the privelage to pay don' t listen, it' s a shame, go figurin' | |
| The name of the father, the son and holy lyrics | |
| I suppose those who know what I' m sayin' when they hear it | |
| Might rage against the system, or hate me for dissin' | |
| The house in which they live in as a slave to the rhythm | |
| But I walk the broken sidewalk paved with the magic | |
| Of those who walk past it, just to survive traffic | |
| If paybacks a , gravity' s a bastard | |
| Avenues I used to call familiar turned backward | |
| Rebel with a pen lettin' off buckshots in threes | |
| Rewriting what it is into what it ought to be | |
| They made a mockery out of the possibility | |
| But under constant revision is the poem that I be | |
| Rebel with a pen lettin' off buckshots in threes | |
| Rewriting what it is into what it ought to be | |
| I be the emcee in the place not to be | |
| But under constant revision is the poem that I be | |
| Yo.. shorty' s getting grown, old enough to read the messages | |
| Understands the elders as he then begins to question them | |
| One generation handed down what they' ve inherited | |
| Another generation rewriting the master narrative | |
| Older folks overdose on broken hopes often | |
| Children then begin to grow comatose and lost up | |
| In the clutches of the wickedest fingers | |
| Indicative of the systems inhibited | |
| Ability to listen to the voice of the dyin who' ve been tired of cryin' | |
| Nightsticks fall where projectiles are flyin' | |
| Through a straight path narrow like the gap between heaven and hell | |
| They skip class cause they know it' s a jail, true | |
| Students prevail when the knowledge is passed | |
| But others seem to fail sittin flat on their ass | |
| And now I be the emcee in the place not be | |
| Under constant revision is the poem that I be | |
| Rebel with a pen lettin' off buckshots in threes | |
| Rewriting what it is into what it ought to be | |
| I be the emcee in the place not to be | |
| But under constant revision is the poem that I be |
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