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More Than a Love Song – J. Holiday ft. Black Cobain Lyrics

9 Mar

More Than a Love Song ft. Black Cobain is J. Holiday’s latest release (or leak). Seems like an expression of his underlying political differences with society’s misunderstanding of “ghetto living.” So bust it down, roll it up, and enjoy!


Lyrics:

Bust it down, roll it up, light a spark, take a puff. Lady haze, sour love, I just can’t get enough.

It’s a bird, it’s a plane, no it’s mary jane.Like la la la la, la la la la.

Got my eyes bloodshot red and my chest on fire.Gotta puff puff puff give just to get inspired. 

Gotta ease this pain that I feel inside.Like why we so scared to fly.

Nigga’s pissin in the hallwayhustle on the block all day.

Chicks on the pole niggas livin’ poorworkin’ nine to five for no pay.

Then they wanna ask why, why a nigga wanna get high.

Matter fact why we call each other nigga yeah I even say it can’t lie. 

Chorus:

Little ghetto boy, playin’ in the ghetto streets,

what you gonna do when you grow up, and gotta face reality.

Little ghetto girl, playin’ in the ghetto streets,

what you gonna do when you grow up, and gotta face reality.

Verse 2:

Bust it down, roll it up, light a spark, take a puff.

My heat don’t work and I, can’t even get my car to start up.

My baby mama she callin’, my little girl she crawlin’,

I gotta get the paper cuz if I don’t, the po-pos gone hawk ’em.

I gotta get it, I gotta get it, gotta get it I’m focused.  

But the pain’s still there, so Ima go on keep smokin’.

You can say what you want, Ima do what I feel.

This pain in my heart is so real.

Nigga’s pissin in the hallwayhustle on the block all day.

Chicks on the pole niggas livin’ poorworkin’ nine to five for no pay.

Then they wanna ask why, why a nigga wanna get high.

Matter fact why we call each other niggayeah I even say it can’t lie. 

Chorus

Bridge (Black Cobain)

Bust it down, roll it up, light a spark, take a puff. Marry J. No I can’t, get enough, real love. 

Cold hearts in these ghetto streetsf*ck police there is no peace! 

Ramarley Graham, my condolence,just another ghetto casualty.

Justice, where it’s at? Lucky knew, Janet jack! 

Why you think shorty write rhymes? Why you think youngin’ sell crack?!

Where the politicians where they at?Why the projects all black?

Why they kill my nigga C Bear?Why they do my n*gga like that?

I’m stressed out, I need a drink, need a prayer, my God.

How they supposed to put food on the tablewhen they can’t even find jobs.

Baby mothers like 16, never get a chance to taste dreams.

Prolly learn how to do hair, she ain’t never goin’ nowhere. 

See ’em skeemin’, watch ’em close. For the bread bet you n*ggas get toast. 

Watch the rappers do it real big? Why you think they wanna do it big. 

Slang crack then they gotta do a bid.What’s real, this is life, this is pain, this is hope.Hope to get caught up in the life! 

2012 UPDATE!

25 Jan

Hey guys! I’d like to extend a warm THANK YOU to all  who have been supporting the show, and especially, those who have been here from the beginning. In the year of 2012, I would like to continue giving you the scoop on lyrical meanings in popular music. In doing so, I will be integrating a regular podcast into the mix, along with better videos, more content, and Pieced Apart attire! Here’s the catch, I NEED YOUR HELP. Keep in touch with me on Twitter, Facebook, YouTube, and here to be apart of the mission. Your requests, tips, questions and FACTS will be greatly appreciated.

Stay up to date on my podcast schedule HERE, and call this number: (724) 444-7444  to chat with me LIVE during them. Again, thanks for your continued support, and I look forward to an exciting year together!

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