Thought Process - Goodie Mob: गीत के बोल, संगीत वीडियो और संगीत कार्यक्रम

Thought Process

16,791

Hip-Hop/Rap

Thought Process 7 नवंबर 1995 को Arista/LaFace Records द्वारा एल्बम Soul Food के एक भाग के रूप में रिलीज़ किया गया था

गीत का विवरण

एल्बमSoul Food

रिलीज़ की तारीख7 नवंबर 1995

लेबलArista/LaFace Records

भाषाएंEnglish

मधुरता

ध्वनिकता

वेलेंस

डांस करने की क्षमता

ऊर्जा

BPM93

ओवरव्यू

गाने

क्रेडिट्स

PERFORMING ARTISTS

Goodie Mob

Background Vocals

André 3000

Vocals

Dean Gant

Keyboards

Preston Crump

Bass Guitar

Tommy Martin

Guitar

Dre

Vocals

T-Mo

Vocals

Cee-Lo

Vocals

Big Gipp

Vocals

Khujo

Vocals

Joi

Background Vocals

Organized Noize

Organized Noize

Programming

COMPOSITION & LYRICS

Organized Noize

Organized Noize

Composer, Lyrics

Robert Barnett

Lyrics, Composer

André Benjamin

Composer, Lyrics

Thomas Burton

Composer, Lyrics

Cameron Gipp

Composer, Lyrics

Willie Knighton

Willie Knighton

Composer, Lyrics

PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING

Organized Noize

Organized Noize

Producer, Mixing Engineer

Bernasky Wall

Recording Engineer

Carlos Glover

Recording Engineer

Neal Pogue

Mixing Engineer

John Frye

Mixing Engineer

गाने

[Verse 1]

Let me get a chop at this lumber

**** from down underground are hangin' around the A-Town

Lookin' for a come-up, workin' from 9 to 5

Just to get some change so T-Mo can stay alive

Not greedy or livin' lavish yet, but you can bet that when I do

Nobody from my crew will I forget

If I start to get large and come up on some change

I won't change, everybody know they down

It's not the same, everyday life can be different

These laws got me ready to brawl 'cause I fall a victim

So I still be slangin' them fat pillows to make 'em meet

Each and every day as I comb my city streets

Sometimes I wish I never had been a part of this mess

'Cause the system got us fucked up

It put us to the test, women and men

If you black, you in

Food for the soul, listen to what I tell you

It don't matter, young or old

It's time we loc up and do like we suppose

We killin' each other over this bullshit and some clothes

We're trapped in this world and society with no place else to go

So how you feel?

[Verse 2]

Frustrated, irritated

Sometimes I don't know myself, I be too numb

To feel something sometimes

So I dig deep, get in the Cherokee

Let my mind fly free into the wilderness so I can get this shit off my mind

That's why I be smokin' that dank sometimes

It keeps me from snappin', keeps my calm

Keeps my mind open, keeps me fond of what I gots to do

Off in the studio to get my old burd back on her feet

And little bro in Statesboro and little cuz Mark Twain

All my folks that hang with me when I was out in the trap

Or when I was goin' through one of our episodes

Only God knows what I go through so I get down on my knees

Sometimes I come home too high to pray

But I get on my bed, lay on my back and meditate anyway

In the ceiling, the four walls, it's lie cell therapy

Got nothin' to do but write about my L I F E

Put it down on paper

So what you feel?

[Verse 3]

I live for today, motherfuck another hour

It might be sour

Never know my day, so I'm prayin' in the shower

Look up and thank the Lord for forgiveness, a witness to bad

I'm lookin' for good in the Southwest, God bless my neighborhood

It's people killin' in the street to eat

Survivin' the day is my only goal that I set

Just to make it home, I'm not alone

Someone's out to get me when I haven't done shit wrong

[Verse 4]

My head felt swoll, mista couldn't see past my mouth

What ride did you take, man?

Got me by the loops of my pants

Got me on the curb, lettin' the traffic pass me by

No questions, I said nothin'

Lookin' for the mutant to be buckin' the law

Naw man, Gipp showed him my shit

Closed my mouth, then I dip

See, to me a G is a person who understand the plan

Can't make no moves when you in the hands of the man

They got some new suites down Peachtree

Left wing for the feds, right wing for the hardheads

Makin' more deals than Buddy Folks made with Hartsfield

Somebody don't want my face in this place for 96 shit's slick

Got me clean, lookin' fresh, dogs be scratchin' at my chest

Under the order of who?

Guess who ain't non-iller than miller

One to one to your ass

No more life, what you gave is the past

'Cause ain't no future want to millicamp your case

Disgrace your face, make it seem to be safe

Ain't no place to run

[Verse 5]

Sometimes I don't even know how I'm gon' eat

'Bout twenty dollars away from being on the street

Shit, might see a **** on TV

But hell, it's almost like I'm rappin' for free

That little money be gone, goddammit, I'm grown

Gotta help keep the heat and the lights on

It would be nice to have more, but I kinda like bein' poor

At least I know what my friends here for

I wanna lie to you sometimes, but I can't

I wanna tell you that it's all good, but it ain't

It's **** hurtin' and uncertain about if they gon' make it or not

That's why we got **** killin'

Feelin' like they comin' up off a little dope they sold

You can get some gold, but we won't make it as a whole

'Cause without you, there'd be no me

And without no unity there will never be any happiness

You could smoke a pound of sess and it still won't relieve your stress

God bless my thought process

[Verse 6]

The thought process

Now as an Outkast I was born, wasn't warned of the harm

That would come to meet me like Met Life, but yet life

Don't sent me through a lot of ups and downs like it ain't nothin'

Like elevators but I ain't the one that's pushin' the buttons

I got off at the 13th floor when they told that it wasn't one

They said it skipped from 12 to 14

Still smoking, still drinking, no, I'm sittin' on the Lincoln

4 AM, thinking that in reality the world is like a ball full of playas

We trapped off in this maze with walls made of layers

And only prayer is the tightest game that you can have

The devil's takin' a swing, that might explain the broken glass

But my crystal ball see the pistol fall to the wayside

Nobody would die in cops and robbers when we used to play right

Huh, the only thing we feared was Williams, Wayne

Never thought about hittin' licks or slangin' 'caine

Did not think I'd be the one to give into abortion

Label me murderer because my ass is scorchin'

Hot from the Glock that sits under my seat

Yeah, it's real fucked up that my folks come to get me

And it's like that

Yeah, uh-huh

Yeah, and it's like them

Written by: André Benjamin, Cameron Gipp, Organized Noize, Robert Barnett, Thomas Burton, Willie Knighton

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