Markis Precise, Locksmith - Decisions lyrics

That's what I'm talking about
This is what I'm talk - This is Hip-Hop
Locksmith in the buildling i told y'all

I got you stuck off the realness
I spit nothing but street
Step to this, you're good as gone
Word is bond 'Cause, I don't need gimmicks
I got you stuck off the realness
You better ask somebody
Word is bond, I go on and on locksmith

Look young fella, umbrella
Locked in his closet so the rain comes hella
Harsher than expected, neglected
He's got a chipped shoulder
His big brother is locked up
And he's not sober
Started smoking at age ten
Sipping at thirteen
It's hard to admit, but he's a hurt teen
He's hurting but he buries it in aggression
He started rapping
That's the natural progression
It's more about the melodies and
Less about the lyrics
The content, drug, money, and bitches
The flow never switches
The beat never falters
He's got a passion like the
Preacher at the altar
Stealing from his mother
She barely pays the rent
And the church wanna take ten percent?
Community division, and now he's
Faced with decisions, yeah

From the womb to the tomb
Cradle to the grave, we sing along and pray
From the street to the pavement
Block to the burrow, nothing is that thorough
From the womb to the tomb
Cradle to the grave, we sing along and pray
From block to the burrow
Ain't nothing now thorough

Now he's running the street with
His feet planted firmly
On the pavement, every day in engagement
With a rival turf
He's searching to find a lick
Steady dropping songs, hoping one can stick
Hoping one's a hit so
He's flooding his SoundCloud
Purple drank and dank sprinkles his sound now
Straight from the medicine bottle
'Cause he's living with his girl
So they constantly squabble
From the trap to the lab
Then back to the trap
He's hustling, but he tells everybody he raps
And he only sells pills so
He can pay the bills
Plus he's dealing with all
Of his family's ills
And it's still not enough where
He can afford pampers
And pay for studio time, what's the answer
And his little girl is growing
Not to mention
So he's faced with decision, yeah

From the womb to the tomb
Cradle to the grave, we sing along and pray
From the street to the pavement
Block to the burrow, nothing is that thorough
From the womb to the tomb
Cradle to the grave, we sing along and pray
From block to the burrow
Ain't nothing now thorough

I got you stuck off the realness
I spit nothing but street
The time is now for me to shine
'Cause, I don't need gimmicks
I got you stuck off the realness
Step to this, you're good as gone
Word is bond so hear me out one time
You gots to be yourself
Word is bond, I go on and on