Clip vidéo

Apparaît dans

Crédits

INTERPRÉTATION
Bas
Bas
Rap
The Hics
The Hics
Interprète
COMPOSITION ET PAROLES
Abbas Hamad
Abbas Hamad
Composition
Jamil Pierre
Jamil Pierre
Composition
Roxane Barker
Roxane Barker
Composition
Samuel Paul Evans
Samuel Paul Evans
Composition
PRODUCTION ET INGÉNIERIE
Deputy
Deputy
Production
Derek "MixedByAli" Ali
Derek "MixedByAli" Ali
Ingénierie de mixage
Aria Angel Ali
Aria Angel Ali
Ingénierie de mixage
Curtis "Sircut" Bye
Curtis "Sircut" Bye
Assistance d’ingénierie de mixage
Nicolas De Porcel
Nicolas De Porcel
Ingénierie de mastérisation

Paroles

Still I rise, still I rise Still I rise, still Been hearin' a lot of Too High to Riot They study me like recitals I'm flattered, I am an idol That mean I am inspirin' growth, I am beside myself Spirit has lifted the host Nigga, this isn't a boast, I have been given the most Go through my body of work (mmm) That's a lot of hours, fears, pride, insomnia workin' That's true, they might see the dirt, true, they gon' see the work too Don't forget to look up at the stars, my boy Niggas washed, I can help you with them bars, my boy Just hit up OakShades, send the check, heard? I'm the best out, wanna be the best heard Put my life in a song, tryna get heard Just to die a hundred times like Westworld, damn I got my city on my shoulders (oh) I gotta work, work, work (oh) Don't want no pity, I'm a soldier (oh) I gotta work, work, work (oh) I got my city on my shoulders I gotta work, work, work Don't want no pity, I'm a soldier I gotta work, work... Still I rise, still I rise Still I rise, still And kickin' down doors when they hold keys And put 'em in places we won't reach Weak niggas fallin' for the okie 'Cause there ain't no place that we won't reach Hate your own skin and put on bleach Hard not to feel pity for those people Heavy the world with its bold evils I wish you could unsee I look at the magazine cover But they don't have this color Would you still call me a thug if I ain't have this color? That shit rhetorical, boy, please Lesson we learned from like Rhodesia 'Cause black in this world never known peace Closest we came was a cold breeze on a plantation For the OGs, we demand payment Fuck the police, get no damn statement Lawyer money in my bank statement, yeah Hangin' with killers, parolees I told 'em, I got 'em, I got 'em I heard the top can get lonely So is the bottom, no problem, yeah I got my city on my shoulders (oh) I gotta work, work, work (oh) Don't want no pity, I'm a soldier (oh) I gotta work, work, work (oh) I got my city on my shoulders I gotta work, work, work Don't want no pity, I'm a soldier I gotta work, work Still I rise, still I rise Still I rise, still
Writer(s): Abbas Hamad, Jamil Pierre Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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