Wednesday, February 16, 2005

c-murder - stressin -- off that new tru album, but it's best to try and separate it, i think, and it is a solo track. murder flowing on it, spinning it all out on ugly, swollen beat, slow serious new no limit, layers of disgusting honking drums and swirling piano swishes, eh. and barely rapping it, imagine him following along with pen under each line in scribbly notebook, face twisted up and rocking along to a beat, and again, that bathroom reverberation on the track, carefully drawing out the right rhymes for emphasis, never raising his voice or changing his tone, level.

now stop, it's to be read aloud in a rough, grim monotone, gnaw on those words. and don't worry about the flow or how it should sound. and don't rap it. just read it and let it rap itself, if you follow me:

now, i ain't never rob rallys
but it was close, i done stick up for ballys
we love the smokers, i recall i heard you mention my name
what, you love to see me stressin, this ain't part of the game
you must be high, cause you rockin like a basehead
you hear me? i'm grindin, workin hard for mine, you feel me
four hundred years of pain and now this?
it's like them cockroaches got you trained just like a bitch
now see, they smile in your face and now they wanna take my place
them backstabbers -- blocka blocka-- i'ma get you sucka
we roll tinted windows on the black hummer truck-uh
and after it rain might be dead like jesse james
trade for pain, nigga, when i lose everything i gain
it's simple mathematics, or do the ballistics
statistics show we breed soljas in my district
it ain't like mr. rogers
i learned the game but it wasn't from the dodgers
welfare wasn't a question, just a decision
we embraced it as a blessing cause food was missing
and my tattoos tell a story
i'm bossalini and kevin alive in his glory
i know he see me and runnin but i ain't not moving
it's like a dream, cause all they want is murder
that's what it seems

yeah. that's it. and more drifting around like that, telling his story again, so many real lines buried in it, talking about laying flowers on his empty grave and stolen lexuses, talking out the hook about, they don't want this chorus, all they want is murder, if they don't feel my pain, they gon feel my presence, and i been stressin since an adolescent.

real talk
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