80 Bars - Wyclef Jean: testi di canzoni, video musicali e concerti

80 Bars

2292

R&B/Soul

80 Bars è stato pubblicato il 18 giugno 2002 da Columbia come parte dell'album Masquerade

Dettagli della canzone

AlbumMasquerade

Data di uscita18 giugno 2002

EtichettaColumbia

LinguaEnglish

Melodicità

Acousticità

Valence

Ballabilità

Energia

BPM

PANORAMICA

TESTI

Video musicale

Video musicale

Crediti

PERFORMING ARTISTS

Wyclef Jean

Performer

COMPOSITION & LYRICS

Wyclef Jean

Composer, Lyrics

Jerry Duplessis

Jerry Duplessis

Composer, Lyrics

PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING

Wyclef Jean

Producer

Jerry Duplessis

Jerry Duplessis

Producer

Testi

80 Bars

80 Scars

Yo engineer, turn me up yo

I started off in the underground

From mono to stereo, now I'm surround sound

Blowing through your tubes, leaving holes through your speakers

Cracking through your tweeters, my frequency's off the meter

Jam pack arenas from here to Bangkok

I'm ahead of my time like Jimi Hendrix playing Woodstock

Me I'm playing hoodstock before I had the dreadlocks

I used to reminisce should I do music or sell rocks

Grow my own crops, living in the PJ's

That's when the angel Gabriel said it's all a masquerade

Eyes with no face, sneakers with no lace

I feel the Earth spinning but I'm standing in the same space

With no trace of what happened last night

I seen two fiends fighting over a crack pipe

Now I'm watching TV, my antenna was a clothes hanger

Blurry vision, Mr. McGee Hyundai banner

Flip the data, the kids are wearing bandanas

Toting hammers aiming at your medulla oblongata

Blaow blaow, a young thug with a slim figure

Romantic type like the movie Casablanca

Herb seller once got busted by an undercover buyer

My supplier was a gypsy cab driver

That's when I realized I need to find a new hustle

Living in the jungle, the guitar became my muscle

I strive through snake eyes that wanted me crucified

Y'all thought that I was drowning but I was getting baptized

Now behold I heard you sold 20 mil

But with no street credibility you're overkill

Y'all ain't real, talking 'bout keep it gangsta

Only if you knew the gangstas sent me to shank you

Gank you, yank you, tie up your ankles

And if that ain't enough I call henchmen to lynch you

Now at the funeral I can see the priest bless you

But in the afterlife I'mma still touch you

Knocking on Heaven's door you're begging to get in

That's when the son of man greets you with the face of Satan

Now you look frightened in the belly of the whale

That's when the warden say I want to welcome you to Hell

Phone's is five bucks, get off the phone, time's up

I seen him cut from his head to his nuts

You wish you would, wish you could, wish it got you here

You screaming so loud that a deaf man can hear

Back to the silence, no more dropping science

Everybody rapping 'bout diamonds and violence

And A&R's all they do is charge credit cards

And when the bill comes they blame it on the rap stars

Now how you figure? I ain't rent a car

I wasn't at the spa, I ain't buy the bar

Now here's a jewel when you get your first record deal

Don't subject yourself to the mass appeal

First class, caviar in the Ville

In the new S-Class with the Jordan wheels

Remember, the music industry's like the streets

You know the code of the streets, everybody trying to eat

The evidence is concrete, I'm tired of the same song

You take me out you must be high off of heroin

Sharper than I ever been, this one gon' get a ten

Rappers I'mma murder y'all with your own medicine

I move with faith, I never have doubt

I'm so hungry you would think I'm just coming out

But I've been here before, from Blunted to the Score

To the Carnival, Eclectic World Tour

Encores and whores waiting in the back door

They want me to rock they boat and ship them on shore

That's when the Father said take heed to this lesson

They want to cut your hair like Delilah did Samson

I felt that, so I went back to my format

Raps in backpack, gats for carjacks

Hats for pussycats 'cause AIDS I don't want that

And for the DJs here's something y'all can scratch

Technique 12, the needle hits the wax

Hypnotize the crowd, the dance floor's jam packed

Now sing along like a Negro spiritual

No one got shot tonight, it's a miracle

But what's this I hear? Y'all want to take my spot?

You got a better chance putting a gorilla in a headlock

I'm too focused, I can see through your lens

You ain't a G just a wannabe kingpin

So the next time y'all want to pay for protection

I suggest that you hit up the Haitian Sicilians

80 Bars

80 Scars

80 Bars

80 Scars

80 Bars

80 Scars

80 Bars

Written by: Jerry Duplessis, Wyclef Jean

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