Icon (of Brooklyn Academy) - Let It Ride lyrics

[Intro: I-See-On and Mr. Metaphor] Mr. Metaphor: Yo, son. Yo, son. f** is that sound son? I-See-On: Wack members, man. Haha Mr. Metaphor: f** [Hook: I-See-On and Mr. Metaphor] Let it ride, ride high to the sky Never die. We all shall rise Open your ears, open your eyes. Here's a word to the wise: You could run but can't hide [Verse 1: I-See-On] I'm trying to think of reasons why my life is so bad I'm twenty-one years old now and I ain't seen my own dad Just got my GED, but you'll be freeing three police, freed the beast We are the world, we are the children—let freedom ring American flags. Confederates surrendered the ave Word got back to me. I heard Joseph got bagged That sh** is f**ed up. Them n***as got sheisty and locked his truck up With no clothes on. Half-naked and pulled his trunks up These streets are trife if you believe the hype. Praying in Jesus Christ Bullets that ricochet off of buildings move at the speed of light Becoming troopers with no lungs, spitting our bloody mucus We live like savages and spit with the tongue of a hungry mutant Operation Slobodan Milošević [Mike Idarola's?] frozen. He's dozing, posing like he's holding bricks My clique's the wildest. f** a book—give me million dollars Never been to college, studied scriptures of forbidden knowledge Flee the fortress. We crossed the borders of the Boston waters For the cost of quarters, son, you're coughing with the force of orbit [Sight cloned?], using the forces of a cy-c-lone When God created me, he used the portions of a Viking's bone Looked to my n***a E. “I'll see you in the next century” It's elementary where The Devil bred the dead in me And if they elected me, I'd empty every penitentiary God vs. The Devil—20 rounds with no referee [Hook: I-See-On and Mr. Metaphor] (x2) Let it ride, ride high to the sky Never die. We all shall rise Open your ears, open your eyes. Here's a word to the wise: You could run but can't hide [Verse 2: Mr. Metaphor] I only drink hard liquor. You Canada Dry I stick a mic to your chest—put your hands to the sky We could battle to the d**h, son, granted you try And I would not stand for less unless, damn it, you die I'm the one that bodied Hoffa and abandoned the ride I'm that psychopathic doctor that examines your mind Your whole crew—one at a time, had ‘em standing in line Reading my rhyme, leaving ‘em bleeding at the scene of the crime These are the times. When I spit, you better read between the lines There's a fine line between new and old—mines is primetime Ayyo, it's my time. f** a stop sign. Won't stop rhyme Rain or sunshine, you get hit by my punchlines I spit at mountaintops, causing mudslides I'ma stab you with a mic and tie you up until the blood dries I'm going for the grand prize, gonna win by a landslide Take a land by storm, storming the ground with my hands high I took the crown when the champ died, put the belt by my side Prayed to God for the health he provide I will survive, staying alive. Something over my eyes I seen the smoke in the sky. All joking aside I seen the ocean dry, seen the Earth's motion rewind My focus was blind, frozen in time, thorns poking my spine Out of my mind, hours gone by, bullets that scoured the sky Seen the hour cry—that means it's my time to die [Hook: I-See-On and Mr. Metaphor] (x2) Let it ride, ride high to the sky Never die. We all shall rise Open your ears, open your eyes. Here's a word to the wise: You could run but can't hide