Archive | April, 2012

Nas – Daughters – Lyrical Review

28 Apr

Yesterday (April 26, 2012) Def Jam’s Nas released the third single off of his up and coming album “Life is Good” titled “Daughters.” I wasn’t expecting this to hit the airwaves until May 1st, so I’ll consider it an early gift from The Don. Here is my lyrical review of “Daughters,” and a few comments about why I think men ought to step their grown man up and start taking care of their daughters. Thanks for the edge NAS!LYRICS:Check it out
I call it
Yeah, yeah

I call it “Shit for Niggas wit’ Daughters”
I call this “Shit for Niggas wit’ Daughters”
I call this “Shit for Niggas wit’ Daughters”
I call this “Shit for Niggas wit’ Daughters”

[Verse 1]
I saw my daughter send a letter to some boy her age
Who locked up, first I regretted it then caught my rage, like
How could I not protect her from this awful phase?
Never tried to hide who I was, she was taught and raised like
A princess, but while I’m on stage I can’t leave her defenseless
Plus she’s seen me switching women, pops was on some pimp shit
She heard stories of her daddy thuggin’
So if her husband is a gangster can’t be mad, I love her
Never, for her I want better, homie in jail- dead that
Wait till he come home, you can see where his head’s at
Niggas got game, they be tryna live
He seen your mama crib, plus I’m sure he know who your father is
Although you real, plus a honest kid
Don’t think I’m slow, I know you probably had that chronic lit
You 17, I got a problem with it
She looked at me like I’m not the cleanest father figure but she rocking with it

[Hook]
This for niggas wit’ daughters
I call this, shit for niggas wit’ daughters
Yo, not sayin’ that our sons are less important

Shit for niggas wit’ daughters
I call this, shit for niggas wit’ daughters
I call it, not sayin’ that our sons are less important

[Verse 2]
This morning I got a call, nearly split my wig
This social network said “Nas go and get ya kid”
She’s on Twitter, I know she ain’t gon post no pic
Of herself underdressed, no inappropriate shit, right
Her mother cried when she answered
Said she don’t know what got inside this child’s mind, she planted
A box of condoms on her dresser then she Instagrammed it
At this point I realized I ain’t the strictest parent
I’m too loose, I’m too cool with her
Shoulda drove on time to school with her
I thought I dropped enough jewels on her
Took her from private school, so she can get a balance
To public school, they too nurture teen talents
They grow fast
One day she’s ya little princess, next day she talking boy business
What is this?
They say the coolest playas and foulest heart breakers in the world
God get’s us back, he makes us have precious little girls

[Hook]
This for niggas wit’ daughters
I call this, shit for niggas wit’ daughters
Yo, not sayin’ that our sons are less important

Shit for niggas wit’ daughters
I call this, shit for niggas wit’ daughters
I call it, not sayin’ that our sons are less important

[Verse 3]
And I ain’t tryna mess ya thing up
But I just wanna see you dream up
I finally understand
It ain’t easy to raise a girl as a single man
Nah, the way mothers feel for they sons, how fathers feel for they daughters
When he date, he straight, chip off his own papa
When she date, we wait behind the door with the sawed off
Cuz we think no one is good enough for our daughters 

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BIG K.R.I.T – King pt. 2 – Lyrical Breakdown

13 Apr

History remembers KINGS! Big K.R.I.T shut it down with this one! Leave your comments below, and Enjoy. Lyrics:

History remembers kings!
God bless you all!

I don’t mean to burden you
It’s just, umm, I had a conversation with a wise man
He asked me a question like, “How could you be in the position to say so much, but say so little,” so this is me saying a lot

[Verse]
I was raised from the Bible belt, I tighten that, a titan’s back
Same game they claim that they killing, I’m breathing life in that
Take heed, the people you lead when you reciting that
You will die for what you believe, so where’s your rifle at?
Never was entertained or influenced by all the drama
Hard to bury your partna, but harder to console a mama
That only want the best for her child
Save a place for his soul Lord, he ain’t been to church in a while
Said that Jesus can’t save him and ain’t no church in the wild
His anger fueled his ambition, I swear he forgot how to smile
“Hustle hard, hustle hard,” that’s what he said
While counting up the bread that he fell for, now he dead
And they can’t bring him back
They locking up my people, shawty, racks on top of racks
Public housing just too crowded God, shacks on top of shacks
Most pastors misleading people that listen
When all us black folk have is music and religion
A sense of self-respect
Lost in the need to express ourselves through money, drugs, and sex
I’m a product of the same, so I understand the checks
That says that she’ll be down to fall victim to her flesh
If I’m worth it she’ll undress
One night of slumber, harsh rains and violent thunders
As she leaves, “Is she clean?” Lord, I often wonder
See men turn mice from results, the clinic humbles
Plan B pill, God damn, your stomach rumbles
Laugh it off, but she’ll keep it due to my numbers
So be it, I’ll oversee that he runs and never fumbles
If it’s a girl, I’ll give her the world and sunny summers
And show her how to scrap in case a nigga jump on her
Protect them from the evils that TV often can feature
Beware of predators in this jungle, they out to eat ya
We all kings and queens, don’t let no one else beseech ya
Life can throw some bows that leave ya swole, don’t let it beat ya
Don’t let them feed you that bullshit that they fed me
Don’t follow the road I took, look where it led me
I speak my mind and my heart, I bet they dread me
In a world of give me what you got, I always said free-dom
You been starving your soul so long that you should eat sum’n
You concerned with your followers, then lead them
To a well that only you and yours drink from
I build my own, f-ck your playbook
Kingdom, that’s how I feel, I’m strong in faith
Don’t need for you to say that God ain’t real
Some things you just shouldn’t play with
My soul patient cause success ain’t ever save shit, face it
We all born to die, yea that’s basic
But living fast and dying young ain’t salvation
You keep on with that blasphemy and I’ll keep on with my praying
If you think that Lambos hot in the summer, well hell’s blazing
My mind frame blown cause my brother says that I’m on
He bored at the crib while I’m wishing that I was home
Said he die for the chance, and I reply to him he was wrong
Told him he could do better than me then hung up the phone
The youth, will surely go to war for what you own
To them it’s more than real, but to you it’s just a song
But to you it’s just a song
But to us it’s just a song

[Outro]
I’m guilty of the same
Cause there is no one person is to blame
I promise I’ll change
I pray you do the same

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