lirik lagu a sinners inheritance - class_sick
verse one
street messiahs, turn a drought into a flood with demon choirs
jesus wept, but in my section, blood replace the streams of zion
heat inspire, melt the steel, the furnace burn through weakened spines
we design a future built from ruins where the greed conspired
seeds of fire plant the garden, roots been fed through ether wires
gold from dirt—the lessons learned get written in the thief’s attire
beasts admired, but the crown’s too heavy for the meek to try it
peace is quiet, but the block gon’ riot when the needs require
schemes acquire moral debt, but payment come in sleep or silence
bleed for science, cracked the code and stitched it with a preacher’s lyre
seen suppliers masquerade as martyrs when the evil’s quiet
bleak horizon, sun don’t rise, just glows behind police and sirens
speeches tire, faith buried deeper when dieties deny us
leaders tried us, sickness swarms the gutters, not in fema’s guidance
dreams expire, we still bloom where they delete the iris
reap the virus, sleep beside it guns and ghosts, my peace divided
hook
they gave us broken scales and said measure your worth
they buried our hope under concrete dreams
but the roots never forget, and weeds still whisper truths in cracked sidewalks
see we turned survival into a craft
alchemy from agony, spinning trauma into tempo, silence into soundtrack
society turned its back, so we learned to read shoulders
watch the shrug amd the twitch before betrayal
the cold shoulder taught us warmth comes from within
so we lit fires in our chests and now we called it pride
verse two
fast speeds through the gravel pit, cluttered lanes where the devils stroll
affliction sown in every thread, the youth now draped in crimson tones
and bible full of drug wars, injections torture gifted souls
there’s parables in paper folds, commandments in the brick you sold
visions of a fendi~clad ezekiel with the wrist control
got chickens in a digi bag, the beaker on the kitchen stove
american dream scripts the roles, for green it’s tombs and bricks
the grip of a heretic’s theme, watching fiends distort the bliss
ghetto gods feast inside the temples where the pastors quit
got marble floors and money counters humming like a baptist hymn
survivors turn to prophets when the storm’s thick and all hope’s dismissed
diamonds in the rough shine like outlines where the homies slipped
empires get built off broken promises and ignorance
naw we ain’t learn from elders, just inherit all they bitterness
lessons passed through wire taps, life ain’t spare the innocence
now saints and sinners swapping masks when the fortune feels infinite
hook two
the game never retire, it just changes uniforms, same plays, new players
see we ain’t just inherit the bloodlines, we inherited beef, broke creeds, and unspoken grief
ain’t no commandments on these corners, its only receipts
you can’t preach heaven to a soul baptized in gun smoke and p~wn slips
todays youth ain’t built off blueprints, they built off absence, rage and the horror of failing to break the cycle
we dressed pain in designer and now even saints have a pyrex prophecy
said salvation got a scent, and it’s cut with scarcity
the script was rigged, so we made movies in alleyways and edited trauma into ambition
verse three
symphonies of sin composed in goblets full of black mead
casualties will tally like the measures in a rhapsody
anatomy get crafted with the sinews of a fractured creed
luxury and treachery both balance on a dagger’s beam
steel~forged quill dipped in barrels where the meek bleeds
thats a think piece forming constellations of dead kings deed
sweet dreams dormant in the catacombs of ch~nked greeds
sync fees ciphered through the sacrament of brink needs
chalice full of tempest sip the omens from a bronze rim
dawns dim skyline burning when the bonds bend
p~wns grim pushed across the board where the gods sin
lost kins etched into the floors where the dogs grin
talons grip the necklace lift the tokens from a con’s chin
caskets for the restless hit the brokers when the palms itch
jackets lined with vengeance clip the vultures in the wrong mix
gas ‘em in the trenches turn the district into auschwitz
outro
we was raised where halos rust and angel wings get clipped for blood sport
so we learned to make god outta gunpowder and court dates
we sharpened pens on tombstones, wrote verses in blood, and called it legacy when they tried to sell our silence
they say the meek shall inherit the earth…
but out here, the meek is liable to end up with debts, addiction, and mugshots
in the city, bullets speak louder than ballots and the block got more pastors with pistols than pulpits with purpose
so who are you to judge as for what we do today…so we can see tomorrow
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