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silent scream - oblique brown lyrics

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[verse]
hail mary, sweet mother of jesus
someone plug the mics and please adjust the speakers
preachers preach and pastors speak, but reach none
drowned by the silent screams from a bleak slum
inspiration: my pops’ perspiration
wrote this verse on the train as the cops lurked the station
searching for a brown face to cage in
bagging arabs, blacks and south asians
me, guess i’m a one man terror cell
’cause the cops up-down, round again like a carousel hmmm…
i’ve seen all the parallels
live from the land where the brave man’s arrow fell
triple barreled peril, ushered in this era’s h-ll
‘guns, germs and steel’ while the slum squirms for real
.. gotta hustle for them tender bills
tryin’ ta make a mil (meal) from scr-ps like emerril
don’t really splurge much, i’m far from ballin’
got a few chips, one shot, guess i’m all in
.. poker face like sam farha
my man’s like ‘chee, you obsessed with them cars huh?
so i show drive like the jacob javits center
got a savage temper, your managements bent up
tell ’em chill, your audience is safe
i ain’t tryin ta offend your fan bases’ bad taste
the beats my canv-ss, my speech is the hand brush
dipped in hues that speak to different moods
and still stick to hunger pains, for dinner sniff glue
…. drink booze and spit truth
guess a drunken man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts
as i sleep walk down these concrete street blocks
spittin’ raps to the rhythm of life
like the heaves and sighs of lose lives provide the beatbox
… live from detox
my trini cats call me coal pot slash pol pot
pop a rappers head of and use it as a doorstop
… then barge my way in
from the cold gray pavement to rock clubs like cavemen
kevlar st–z, scream, ‘v, none can harm ya’
my best friend’s asian, but there’s no ch-nks in the armor
pardon my cr-ssness, but i’m sick of starving
and these lines that i sow, reap greens like a garden

fertile flow, plough it through music here
you don’t like it? plant your tulips (two lips) here yea
and kiss my -ss while you at it
asiatic pimp at it, type specific slim
no spreewell spinners since i rock the pacific rim
spit acidic phlegm, till i black out like hasidic men

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