Qwel & Maker - Capathy lyrics

Coward human got a gun, he's down to shoot it, run Bow before his outward spouting power A flower slumps in the slums A crushing flood on someone's love, someone's son, someone's done (Buck, Buck, Buck, UHHH) And the rain sings like, I don't care And the train howls like, I don't care But where them thugs at, so other thugs know just who to bust at Some dumb a** brats who buck at other thugs, but miss as much as tap To cap a total stranger's rug rat Waitin on the bus mad Not another mustard…puff…slug through lung and lunch bag f** cats actin adamant about thug a** philosophy But oddly enough never changed a diaper or diaper wrapped colostomy Rap about zaggin rags, I highly doubt it Let the dragon out on babies babies, now ain't a side round it (I don't care) Drowning flowers ain't a thing, not for cowards fraid to sing That goes for cops up on Howard Panoptic tower made of heat It's raining steel nails through tissue boat sails and gales of dollar cream Hail increase like collars, fathers martyred out of ink Think how slaughtered daughters' mothers weep it out without an ounce of sleep Salty heaps of sniffled "why's" crystallized round her cheeks Sees the skies as just clouds now Shouts in her pillow wet But where my k**er's k**ers? To fill in her children's silhouette Chillin, building hell, feelin well, k**in something Blood for miles, high as a horse's bridle, demons runnin, Jesus comin Told 'em Hold 'em to an unrepentant sentence, senseless muggin Desensitized eyes, shruggin pride, to deny your lungs from pumpin He's the hardest motherf**er ever f**ed a mother Brother bucker Bust at thunder in his slumber Up to pluck your number Peace The Harvest Rubber Duckers, he's retarded Swingin his sickle, gleanin brittle garden, marksman s**s you under I don't care