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Jack_John_Mark

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Honestly I'm mostly a lyrical guy......the greatest lyrical song writer of all time has one of the worst voices, but I love listening to him.....here is some of his work


Is it true what I heard about the Son of God?
Did he come to save? Did he come at all?
And if I dried his feet with my dirty hair,
would he make me clean again?

They say they don't know when, but a day is gonna come,
when there won't be a moon and there won't be a sun.
It will just go black, it will just go back
to the way it was before.

I knew a lovely girl with such pretty pride,
and every man wanted her, yeah and so did I.
Yeah, and so did I. But she up and died
in a fit of vanity.

Now men with purple hearts carry silver guns.
And they'll kill a man for what his father's done.
But what my father did, you know it don't mean shit.
I'm not him.

And you think I need some discipline, well, I had my share.
I've been sent to my room. I've been sat in a chair.
And I held my tongue. I didn't plug my ears.
No, I got a good talking to.

Now I don't know why, but I still try to smile
when they talk at me like I'm just a child.
Well, I'm not a child. No, I am
much younger than that.

And now I've read some books and I've grown quite brave.
If I could just speak up, I think I would say
that there is no truth. There is only you
and what you make the truth.

So I'll just sing my songs, and I'll pass a hat.
Then I'll leave your town and I'll never look back.
No, I don't look back because the road is clear
and laid out ahead of me.

Now I'll get home, I'll meet my friends at our favorite bar.
We'll get some lighter heads for our heavy hearts.
And we'll share a drink. Yeah we'll share our fears
and they will know how I love them.
They will know how I love.
They will know how I love them.
I'm nothing without their love.

Now I don't know when, but a day is gonna come
when there won't be a moon and there won't be a sun.
It will all go black. It will all go back
to the way it's supposed to be.

Is it true what they say about the Son of God?
Did he die for us? Did he die at all?
And if I sold my soul for a bag of gold to you,
which one of us would be the foolish one?
Which one of us would be the fool?
Which one of us would be the foolish one?
Which one of us would be the fool?
 

USCDoom

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YouTube - Killah Priest - Hard Times

The prophecies of a poor man end on a train
Take his last breath
Slumps over drops his last bit of change
A mother pacing by her window pane
Staring hopeless at the gentle rain
When the messenger returns telling her
That her child was slain
She reaches for his picture frame
Open up the good book read the scriptures
And sighs his name
The skies full of flames
Streets are gothic
Twelve ****az lay dead in front of their projects
Reminding D's of a classic mob hit
Bitches gossip, about they men being targets, or suspects
****az in the lab taking golden seal
For tomorrows drug test
Scared ****az hugging they techs
Don't want to get plugged next
Outside there's a bloodfeast
We all product, faced with hard luck
Since the wrath of God struck
Now we like Yo Tone let me borrow a buck
He like Yo what the fuck
****az was born to be skeletons
Or was it the curse of this dark melanin
When I die will I open my eyes in Hell again
With these jealous men
Lord forgive me but I smell a gin
On the lips of winos
Sent a plaque turned 'em all into Albinos
With horns coming from their foreheads like Rhinos
Read it in my last testament and my hidden scrolls
See my icon straight faced with a torn robe
A beard and some cornrows
The whole globe hears when I perform my shows
[Chorus 2x: Killah Priest]
We go from hard times to part-times
from part-time back to hard times
That's the start of crime
Till the day we see the father shine
light on us, trying to warn us
We play the corners
[Killah Priest]
I visit monasteries
Where dons were buried
Approached the bench with teary eyes
Tryin to con the jury
Christ said those of you without sin, cast the first stone
Those of you without ends, blast the first chrome
Is it the prophecies of Deuteronomy
that drove us to this poverty?
Trapped with starvin seeds
Fightin for sovereignty
Cold nights make the toddler freeze
Blood over my wallabies
Raining mahogany
Here's a dollar for the trees
We worship weed like idolatry
Silly bitches with conniving thoughts
Sticking knives and folks
Don't understand what it's like to be a black man in court
****az up screamin all night
Complaining that their handcuffs are too tight
Kicking on the cell till they cut out the lights
It's like a curse
Walk besides white women they start holding they purse
I just ask you for the time bitch
What you got anyway? Some of the Indians turf
The Beauty that once flowed from the Nile
Like the Moses child
The hand that writes is a good as the hand that holds the plow
[Chorus]
[Killah Priest]
Some say the spirit of a dead angel lies within me
Look in my eyes, they're empty
Poverty stricken beaten with the rod ol envy
Lurking through the shadows of death
Dragging my wings, saw the image of a beast
Ram, dragon and queen, heard the bragging of kings
Whose laughter was as bitter as a scorpion sting?
Forced in the ring with idiots so many cliques
Letting out automatic clips
A dead lady combing the hair of a bastard bitch
I spit graphic shit you ain't hear half of it
From my fucked up marriages
To dealing with miscarriages
From drinking with savages
Driving hazardous
I'm here today to meet the man from Nazareth
Where's the pastor? Show me where that chapter is
 

The Crimson King

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huh, don't know that one...JJM
 
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USCDoom

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"The hand that writes is a good as the hand that holds the plow"

Truth!!!
 

Jack_John_Mark

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That's pretty good Doom.....

CK, nobody here knows who that guy is that I posted. I actually know him, he's from Omaha. His name is Conor Oberst, and he has had one messed up life. Nearly overdosed several times and wrote a lot of good lyrics
 

Jack_John_Mark

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This is another one by Conor that I love....called Let's Not Shit Ourselves


Well, the animals laugh from the dark of the wilderness.
A baby cries hard in an apartment complex,
as I pass in a car buried under the influence.
The city's driving me out of my mind.
I've seen a child is caught in the sad trap of gravity.
He falls from the lowest branch of the apple tree
and lands in the grass and weeps for his dignity.
Next time he will not aim so high.
Yeah, next time, neither will I.
Now a mother takes loans out, sends her kids off to colleges.
Her family's reduced to names on a shopping list.
While, a coroner kneels beneath a great, wooden crucifix.
He knows there's worse things than being alone.
And so I've learned to retreat at the first sign of danger.
I mean, why wait around, if it's just to surrender?
An ambition, I've found, can lead only to failure.
I do not read the reviews.
No, I am not singing for you.
Well I stood dropping a coin into the pit of a well.
And I would throw my whole billfold if I thought it would help.
With all these wishes I make,
I should buy something real, at least a telephone call home.
Well, my teachers, they built this retaining wall of memory,
all those multiple choices I answered so quickly.
And got my grades back and forgot just as easily,
but as least I got an A.
And so I don't have them to blame.
Well I should stop pointing fingers;
reserve my judgment of all those public action figures,
the cowboy presidents.
So loud behind the bullhorn, so proud they can't admit
when they've made a mistake.
While poison ink spews from a speechwriter's pen,
he knows he don't have to say it,
so it, it don't bother him.
"Honesty", "Accuracy" is just "Popular Opinion."
And the approval rating's high,
and so someone's gonna die.
Well ABC, NBC, CBS: Bullshit.
They give us fact or fiction? I guess an even split.
And each new act of war is tonight's entertainment.
We're still the pawns in their game.
As they take eye for an eye until no one can see,
we must stumble blindly forward, repeating history.
Well, I guess we all fit into your slogan
on the fast food marquee:
Red blooded, White skinned oh and the Blues.
Oh and the Blues, I got the Blues! That's me! That's me!
Well, I awoke in relief.
My sheets and tubes were all tangled weak from whiskey and pills,
in a Chicago hospital.
And my father was there, in a chair, by the window, staring so far away.
I tried talking, just whispered, "...so sorry...so selfish..."
He stopped me and said, "Child I love you regardless
and there's nothing you could do that would ever change this.
I'm not angry. It happens. But you just can't do it again."
So now I try to keep up, I've been exchanging my currency.
While a million objects pass through my periphery.
Now I'm rubbing my eyes 'cause they're starting to bother me.
I've been staring too long at the screen.
But where was it when I first heard a sweet sound of humility?
It came to my ears in the goddamn loveliest melody.
How grateful I was then to be part of the mystery,
to love and to be loved. Let's just hope that is enough.​
 

The Crimson King

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That's pretty good Doom.....

CK, nobody here knows who that guy is that I posted. I actually know him, he's from Omaha. His name is Conor Oberst, and he has had one messed up life. Nearly overdosed several times and wrote a lot of good lyrics

Got ya, not bad, i was just trippin
 
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