Themselves - Back II Burn lyrics

We back to relapse On a block called “The Trap,” Its windows blackened with rap To them ten strong in the hack Dragging this song We back to redact them old tags on the wall Names at half-mast, cast in a lawless black scrawl Mere bylines at twilight beginning of getting a die right on In three-to-four letter loyalties that dry before dawn By habit or craft My whole discograph Is first murmur and last stab Relentless as rent checks My rep is a slur, curse, word, and a d**h threat As for old fears, son, there ain't no answer record yet Spit oil slick talk, you might slip on the set list I did slit a brittle novelist with one-ice line pick, kicked… We back with both halves To burn, bone, and last And know that No exile a return is entire just as This ain't all aftermath of a crash Ask dax… Motherf**er, guess who's back… We have returned to the ave. of first things And we're back to burn the debris of beginnings To my many lives' timeshare dimes and term-limit crews I leave for each of you the bookkeeping that thieves do At three in the morning beneath a bloodless moon But I knotted no rope of licensing that I might leave you in Junes, no icy Midas finery lining my B of A tomb Only swap meet winnings unmoved in a rented room In addition to the foul and mutual feeling used So to my enemies true To my mom's new names and her hundred gurus To them tired-guitar, light-on-heart, mind-on-marquee, try-hards… got nothing but grudge for them, twice-robbed A shadow plugged by art burning vice squads Cross a career of called bluffs Sensitive mics and puzzles in dust Plus the peculiar alone of us All not on posse cuts I will put it one way... on you No rotted rope oath, rehab robe Long road ode. Oakland winter know The razor wind in my throat Cut through your bird bone Won't quit at its hollow; We not vox pop poll or Pitchfork prop swoll No pay-stub mob mules, nor orthodox old school South Bronx rap rules, simply diss song true You? Are you easy on being, do you heed the Beat of blood or believe In it heeding you or even short leashing you Read tea leaves N stars then start dry-heaving Are you asleep or simply discreet Cleaning in da sewer of the desire for a redeemer Meaning : Do you throw your back out dreaming? To dive bars, my bent blinds The three AMs of thirty year olds And all else near gold, gone, dull, dim Or sentient numb Whether shining or shunned None and all can come And get un-done By the two in the selves one… And they sung Sung of the matter in a manner that held One's lone gun pen to one's hunt-net drum And they sung With the kind of hunger wings once sprung from And they sung From the boiler room of buildings where your hero's get hung…