God bless all the dying breed
I pray for the dying breed
I′d kill for my fucking creedI'd die if it ever needed
It aint a long time, first time i talk, first time i walk it aint a long time
I need to talk, i need to talk, is this the right time? man fuck the right time
I spill em beans and cook it
I dont care if it dont fit
Your mind, your heart man fuck it
Respect to whom that take seat
For a two cents from a kid
If you dont like you may quit
Aye look man, i been thinking bout a certain kind of people i call dying breed
Thats the kind of people that i would bleed for
I lost count on those i knew
Yet dying breed count as a few
The fuck is happening i see super villain in the news, on a daily routine
Theres a thirteen raped by a thirty drugged With some morphine
What the fuck is happening?
Kill the tv then i took my phone, wish that i found a peace somehow i aint surprised
All i find is another decrease
Scrolling pictures of phonies
The fake rich flex
The fake respex
They′d fuck you up
You dont even need sex
Social media effects
Stabbing homies in the back
Bug me like an insect
But still we dont act
Add that to the list add that to the count
At whom i get pissed, at those kind of cunt
Add that to the list add that to the count
At whom i get pissed, at those kind of cunt
Get the homies and sing with me
God bless all the dying breed
I pray for the dying breed
I'd kill for my fucking creed
I'd die if it ever needed
Lets take it to the music, lets take it to the basic
Hip hop′s a trend, so they pretend, they think its all about the brand, they wanna blend
I talk they got offended, and now they got defensive
I know they know they fake it, but still they lie, impressive
And would y′all let a boy ask a question?
What happened to music and the passion?
H2O asked this generation?
Panji be cooking in the studio, compose that shit baby hear my audio
Booming booming through the stereo, that shit rising a crescendo
We write, we learn, we true from head to toe
We real, we pay respect too those who know
An homage to bap, to laze to joe
Reciting the truth with rhyme and flow
A mixture of jazz and street poetry
A blend of the soul and speech of the free
A question to ask of what will i be?
Without the music it done possessed me
Add that to the list add that to the count
At whom i get pissed, at those kind of cunt
Add that to the list add that to the count
At whom i get pissed, at those kind of cunt
Get the homies and sing with me
