lirik lagu nick why? - nothing
t-tle: nothing
could i please have a story to tell?
cuz i legit just go to cl-ss then wait for the bell
and then i’m straight walkin’ home – thoughts present in my dome –
but actually nothing inspiring happened on its own
but i know that the lord’s got a plan for me
whatever that shall be, we will see;
certainly, my life’s a slow movie –
plot’s not yet a factor;
i’m playin’ a mad bad-ss and i’m a method actor
first period i’m messin’
next i’m stressin’
like an accent on a vowel
by break, my bowels get the best of me
and i need a vasectomy fast before third becomes last
at lunch – bangin on the table –
“here is a fable, my lines are gonna k!ll you like kane did abel
for your brain’ll feel whack when they smack you in the back;
to understand my rhymes you’ll have to rewind this track;
this track is a boxing match and you’re in the ring;
my rhymes throwin’ left and right hooks aiming for your brain
i freestyle like a speedchild on speed – not – i freestyle like a kid with add took ritalin and now he just sits like a dumb-ss staring at one thing”
ring, the closing bell of liberty
like 6 months after spring
crew mentality was never into me
don’t chill in crews; i kick it with everyone who’s true
cuz i think they’re cool
at school, breakin’ with the breakdancers
ballin’ with the ballplayers
kickin’ it with colombians and boarders of all races
my friendship has minimal boarders;
i’m not a friend h–rder;
i hang with nerds who have never heard of sephora
pay attention to the shaded like a rainforest’s flora
regarding rap i’m into explorin’ and takin’ over
like dora the conquistador’a
devil of the rebels
revel in the peril of the eventual existential barrelin’ down of angels from heaven to the red h-llhole where they make and drink red bull;
when i rap it’ll crumble the sistine chapel
that’s unintended bullet shrapnel;
tryna make art not war
true art’ll come from pain burning deep in your core
reach your lungs before you act, your soul with feel sore
one life, one love, verse full of diction
i got an addiction of thinking deep below the mission
look up to the biblical arm wrestle:
the devil using both hands lookin’ like a mess while
lord is lookin’ round, unconcerned, no issues
he could rip the dude in half – paper tissues
material-terialists, false idols
look at life before you become suicidal
bout 80 years left on the score clock
i’mma jack a step-back three and there’s no block
only hand is god’s – if you against that, you against the odds
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