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one life - language arts crew lyrics

[intro: benny medicina]
you know, this is something established between the listener and the musician. take heed

[verse 1: vric enoh]
i think it’s safe to say the game’s too played and reached its final resting place
success is stress and, bless the state, reflections of my life were made
with the movement of the day and the motion of my penpiece
i place my life on lines of college-ruled and comp ‘til empty
from [?] to pro tools, we grow through like [mold groups?]
just stomping the path like expedition—these are roads we roll through
i’m making adjustments and organizing patiently
if you wait to overthrow your overcoat, your train’ll never leave
so all aboard. i know this family’s ready now
to make it through the thickest clouds and show you life through eyes of ours
a life of bars but setting free the centipede now entering
the ears of yours to fill your thinking reservoir—now feel the four

[hook 1: qs zeus] (x2)
it’s on fire with the vibe you get (vibe you get)
it’s one life, so i’m wild with this (wild with this)
there’s one road but you choose your lane
there’s one game so you lose the same (you lose the same)

[verse 2: clint westwood]
freedom is a mindstate. and mine’s based on applied faith
that shines light in the right place when time quakes
fates are in the making and fakes begin to shaking
hip hop’s face is changing but the game is still the same
inside the soul resides the goal i’m tryna hold
my style unfold through highs and lows
materialize without the big 5. come on. cry
step aside, let it die. this music’s barely alive
in two thousand and three, i’m outmanned by the enemy
neck-deep in the sharp rule of kool herc’s legacy
let it be a remedy, the sounds of humanity
withstand the gravity and rise above the average breed
you can knock me down but i’ll get right back up
‘cause across each town, people back with the laughter
cats couldn’t trash, relate to waking the f-ck up
feast to be eaten. peace, man. one love

[hook 2: benny medicina and clint westwood] (x2)
i know we made it, man. i know the coast is clear
so throw your hands up in the air—2004 is here
yeah, i know we made it, man. it’s what we came to do
bringing this music from our heart and soul and straight to you

[verse 3: benny medicina]
i got love for these days. consecutive shows every week
language arts committee connecting with kutty, collection of seeds
effortlessly be crashing the door, never letting ‘em sleep
the melody sweet, adrenaline is telling me, “leap!” (jump)
i felt the degrees cold and chilling, blows in the air
we all but inhale and trucking the roads like oregon trail
amplify, -n-lyze. the only prediction the path is gone
walking a path beyond but through this sh-t, i’m never letting it drag me on
my skin’s stretched out across the cross. up in the cause, we lost
the price and crucified. so soon to die and lose your life
so please don’t let it be that (please). let it be remedy raps
we’ll walk into the darkness and force to the feeling where the ending’s at
bl–dy digits dragged through walls, for extra wage uncertain
over days you working, trapped inside this f-cking maze and burning
this place is turning upside-down. i’m finding out
the reason why we skyward-bound—with footsteps in the air, the time is now

[verse 4: qs zeus]
ayyo, a young buck coming up, controlling the love
you sitting front row for the show with the boatload [cut?]
you get your clone smoked up and rolled up with roach b-tts
and with the folks that don’t even know if the boat’s gonna hold up
your show stuck. i procure the coast with most love
we brag and boast to language arts with our ferocious love and, uh
the [?] line will define the rule
recited from the bible, consistent as a tide pool
when i ride through with the silencing tool, the sniper rifles
[yo, i might lose, but?] divine as a crew—so much for you
‘cause yours is mine. it forces like to organize and find
specialists in mind with the right tools at the right time
and the right place ‘cause we is. it’s time we blowing up the spot
[warm water and?] the opiate war got and whatnot
picture your blood clot when punks got served
five got what they deserved: [lock-stomping?]—i’m disturbed
on my block or turf, you talk sh-t, we full clips
i got four blimps, a fortress, and all ships are warships
a forklift’s supporting the floorboard for the glory
there’s no fortune to be sold from the forefront to the territory

- language arts crew lyrics

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