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