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son - propaganda lyrics

[intro: propaganda]
i remember like it was yesterday
my mama lifted her eyes to heaven
and was like, “lord, my son wants to be a rapper”
my daddy chuckled, they looked at each other
they ain’t been married for like forever
and i told ’em, it went like this

[verse 1: propaganda]
son, give ’em heat more intense than the sun
something new that ain’t never been done
keep your heart, mind, and soul as one
buck 45 ton and don’t blame your frail frame
just change the whole game
man, stay in the mix, no victory’s flawless
only god can cause it and gives installments
no more than you can handle but handle you must
it ain’t you, it’s the world i don’t trust
i know you got good sense so stay away from the fence
when you speak, say exactly what you meant, don’t trip
shut your eyes and be a sandstorm of extra harsh particles
and byproducts, you’re bound to defy logic
born to cross culture
you best not stop ’til you leveling with radiohead and incubus
you’re a soldier in a trench, better use your gift
and aim it at they heart until they take you serious
listen

[hook: estee bullock]
only the strong will survive
do what you gotta do to stay alive
suredly your father knows best
and i won’t let you go astray
yeah, only the strong will survive
do what you gotta do to stay alive
don’t get caught with your work undone
word of advice from a father to a son

[verse 2: propaganda]
son, nothing better than a job well done
and a life you can save with a gun
so understand there’s two kinds of war and you got to choose one
’cause one is done justly, the other is just done
justified, what they say to you is just a lie
son, live ’til the sun dies
be the eyes of these streets in every tear they cry
be a loss land lover in seas of emcees
and oceans of want-to-bes flaunt in these songs
if you ain’t careful, then all will be gone
the type to speak life in a long summer night
in a studio, porch, or patio with a radio
ran off battery, young cats is battling
when challenging me, it seemed to be flattering
it’s a cold world, your gift’s a bomber jacket
wrap your mind up, keep your eyes up
listen

[verse 3: propaganda]
son, there’s nothing nicer than a well-rocked cypher
expose a biter, well-made flier
in the hands of a productive man
that grinds until he gains a base of loyal fans
from the bedrock grown into a dreadlock
sp-wned out of wedlock, give up, bet’ not
’cause mama made a trail blazer and daddy raised a general
down to the mineral, compet-tion’s minimal
finna pull an all-day melee
scribbling revelation to hear what god say
dribbling inspiration too
exhale a war cry ’til the enemies all die
and frighten ’em with a virus that enlightens ’em
sheer thought should excite them
outright outwrite them
then mention it’s only the beginning
listen, son

- propaganda lyrics

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