Marlon Craft - Lost Faith lyrics
Marlon Craft [Marlon Sean Cirker] Manhattan, New York, U.S. 🇺🇸
[Marlon Craft - Lost Faith lyrics]
Uh yeah, yeah uh yeah, yeah
Look
They wanna know my mic game, it’s ’98, Game 6
Wealthy soul
They wanna know how I’m happy but ain’t rich
Tried to test me, lied as a youngin
And I ain’t bitch
Realized this whole game an illusion
Ain’t been the same since
Ain’t many worse enemies than impatience
Vain princes sit upon thrones
Made of vagueness
Me? My effect directed a young Sway
My effect, director, it's Scorse
They pose, oughta bе themselves
Yеah they Jorge new York kid
They watch me from oy veys to oyes
Cats get a little bit and just
Do what the coin say
I’m invested in myself, win or lose
That boy play
Try to be humble, I feel like an antithesis
Somethin’ like a West Hollywood breast
I bottle the stress, then learn to let it
Pour on the page or on the stage
Never knew how important my stains
Probably have to sell a million records
‘fore I’m embraced by the
Cool table and by that time
It be boring and fake
Do you know what it’s like
To have morals these days?
It’s hard to believe in karma
And rewards seem in vain
But I suppose the prose alone
Is in it'self the destination
I am the excavation
The soul of a restless nation
Composed of every one of
Your woes and hesitations
Saw the script, and I burned it
The smoke rose from the basement
So whatever my lineage or rank
That they fit me in bury me a city kid
Product of the shit we live
Try to try to live to give
Think I might succeed it
Just don’t let the ones
Who’s hollow critique it, say I’s a genius
Call ‘em on their bullshit in
The spirit of Craft
Even wise men walk in circles
When they clearing a path
And may those who felt the love
Outnumber vast those who had to
Get near to the wrath and
Steer clear of the trash
I almost lost faith i swear I almost faith
But that’s what every boss face
Fuck your lil’ bizarre takes
Homie, look at Marl pace
Even when I’m off base
I ain’t runnin’ yall race no, no, no, no, no
Yeah
Look
They wanna know my mic game, it’s ’98, Game 6
Wealthy soul
They wanna know how I’m happy but ain’t rich
Tried to test me, lied as a youngin
And I ain’t bitch
Realized this whole game an illusion
Ain’t been the same since
Ain’t many worse enemies than impatience
Vain princes sit upon thrones
Made of vagueness
Me? My effect directed a young Sway
My effect, director, it's Scorse
They pose, oughta bе themselves
Yеah they Jorge new York kid
They watch me from oy veys to oyes
Cats get a little bit and just
Do what the coin say
I’m invested in myself, win or lose
That boy play
Try to be humble, I feel like an antithesis
Somethin’ like a West Hollywood breast
I bottle the stress, then learn to let it
Pour on the page or on the stage
Never knew how important my stains
Probably have to sell a million records
‘fore I’m embraced by the
Cool table and by that time
It be boring and fake
Do you know what it’s like
To have morals these days?
It’s hard to believe in karma
And rewards seem in vain
But I suppose the prose alone
Is in it'self the destination
I am the excavation
The soul of a restless nation
Composed of every one of
Your woes and hesitations
Saw the script, and I burned it
The smoke rose from the basement
So whatever my lineage or rank
That they fit me in bury me a city kid
Product of the shit we live
Try to try to live to give
Think I might succeed it
Just don’t let the ones
Who’s hollow critique it, say I’s a genius
Call ‘em on their bullshit in
The spirit of Craft
Even wise men walk in circles
When they clearing a path
And may those who felt the love
Outnumber vast those who had to
Get near to the wrath and
Steer clear of the trash
I almost lost faith i swear I almost faith
But that’s what every boss face
Fuck your lil’ bizarre takes
Homie, look at Marl pace
Even when I’m off base
I ain’t runnin’ yall race no, no, no, no, no
Yeah