Qwel & Maker - Broken Wing lyrics

Dah nuh na na nuh G4 fo sure, we're goin to war son On his snide pride lyin with a smile and forked tongue Stealin with his eyes, chillin back of the forefront Will's design to ill the mind, but here the fourth horse comes Screamin come freedom in this season of drought Masonic demons meet in secret, we believe it aloud Without the greedy, grubbin, ducky hands just feet in the clouds Swingin sickle at these anti Christos, keeping us down Blingin, heathen at this bloody freak-nic, geekin to drown Crowds of weekend warriors, but Meaty seeked so we found Never peace on this earth, reserved for sleep in the ground Awaken only perfect in to keep the weakness without But who's that creepin in the teachin without speakin a sound? The loudest deacon fell asleep and shrouds his speech with a doubt Yah's fallen singer, fingers you down to scheme and a shout Blinded eyes screamin, "why?" tryin to beef with the how (on the ground) Wonder how with no wings, but we'll both fly Only a fool would bring war on the Most High (is that your broken wing) Is that your broken wing? misery lovin company, huh? Hopin we both die He who's living in vain, though it's given us blang And paints life in image, gimmicks in this splintering frame Tainted gift, that fallen angel clipped, crippled and lame Limpin for sympathy, b**h-like, but his riddle's his name His fiddle dribbles out the brittlest twang, the vain cynical Derail the faith train to enflame your fame, literal Brang pain, vain to maintain the slaves brains And claims of brave ways, but can't stay safe and hidden though It's either beefin or vegans or white Jesus in the middle road Posed for sold simpletons Frozen in a glimpse of hope Focus dimmed and interscoped Floatin winter's splintered boat Notice hiss in intervals Lotus twigs and integrals Known as b**h to flitty hoes Golden grip and fixing votes Sold us six in Christmas "ho's" Broken scripts and videos Jokin jist skinny bows Locin sh**ty city folk Hopin if the kiddies quote They'll see him as the pinnacle Yah My eyes open high to the bloody horse soundin Real birds and bees, honey forty four thousand Comin on this cloud with a quake and a loud wind Singin with this, Jesus to the drum of war poundin We found him, now's the season, ain't no reason for doubt, sh** If you ain't bout it, bout it, you're about to get drowned kid Til all praise Yah's triumph, Zion, this mountain All that realized, I find my ties at his fountain Bounce on witherin, slitherin ain't no side round it Or way to stay out, to catch the snake on his down rip With triple six brow, frow toutin this foul chip Blazin, amazed at how this truth just sounds sick Fakes ain't forever like the weather just sound bit When lightning strikes twice on my mic and resounded We wonder in the thunder ground without the dumb proud sh** To see you on His judgment with a Blount and a crown vic