Jon Connor - Makes No Sense lyrics

[Verse 1: Talib Kweli] Real n***as say “church”, catch the Holy Spirit You can hear ‘em testify, then I beat ‘em with the curse This ain't baseball, we don't ever let it slide Run through it like first, the tek'll spray Then the pepper spray like pesticides and the crowd disperse Somebody on the floor is left to die, that's how it go What you expect? There's metal detectors at the door That's how you know that we in a prison Whether it's the club, or the school, hospital or the f**in' airport Take a trip when I'm on one Gone in the head ‘til the song's done, sh** You ain't nothin' but a blip on the screen I remain the game for the long run, staying at the forefront No blinds – we gettin' sky high We changing time zones, the hours fly by The Europeans, mixing weed with their tobacco for ‘em I got it locked like the Scots with the shackles on ‘em Slave psychology, trade property if you want apologies I'm a king, not in my genealogy Origin of the word etymology Eye of the pyramid like a Ponzi scheme Pull my collar up, cooler than Fonzie be And I rock, n***a, call me geology I'm the top n***a, check the discography [Verse 2: Freddie Gibbs] Real n***as say “church, mosque, synagogue" Fresh pine box for you and your squad 28 grams and it came out hard So I quit my job, got blessed in the mob Get burnt, work, left in the dirt Last real n***a in the game, don't perp Gibbs be the n***a with the pounds and the work Bet you'll probably be the next rap n***a in a skirt Get brake, scrape, put him in his place Price on your head, got a dub in his face All my dogs eat off the same plate Shoot a n***a, get a charge, get out the same day And I know a n***a itching to do me the same way Really do it matter? We livin' the same sh** Never looking forward to getting my brains lit But it'll probably be a n***a I hang and slang with Yeah, enemies come with smiles, but I see their disguises I done seen friends turn into straight frauds So the fake sh** don't surprise me In the lab with a spoon and a hot stove Most of y'all n***as couldn't survive me .38, young goon with a snub-nosed Born and raised on Gangsta Island [Verse 3: Jon Connor] I'm not giving a f**, which means I'm not giving an intimate touch, keeping my virginity clutched, I'm not giving it up Spitting murder, I'm probably not somebody you want to make an enemy of Every syllable is k**in' ‘em, d**h is a minimum Outcome when you lettin' Freddie with machetes in your living room I'm living through the visuals, I'm giving you connect with every individual And they're just saying that he's lyrical… No, n***a, I'm the realest – raised in the jungle with gorillas Ain't too many heroes and there's way too many villains n***as goin' crazy over money, probably need to be committed They commited to seeing these k**ings And walking away like they don't know who did it Time ain't on your side So be happy when you see the other side of a minute Half-aware n***as witness homicides when they chillin' Just another day in my city – just another day in Fly City Gonna be funny with another n***a's money Better make sure a motherf**er die silly, it ain't pretty Poverty done got to me, no you can't take it out of me Talk is cheap, motherf**er, it's like I just hit the lottery Got to be n***as spitting that comedy, not a nominee Spitting a monopoly ‘til I'm living like Tommy Lee sh** too real – and these n***as too fake It's my time – these n***as too late My city too real – so I stay like that And we don't give no f** – ‘cause we was raised like that Gone…