lirik lagu soul yce - win or lose
[verse 1: knshk]
win or lose? ek bhi ni!
i choose not to choose anything over anything
kyun ki seekh raha hun mai to not believe in false beliefs and prophecies
itne saalon se mai khoj raha hun khudko in log ke ke beech
hun waaqif mai khudse ni
na hi aati mujhe chain ki nind
’cause these ls keep stressing me
meri! aankhe gadhi hai aasman peh
i’ve been looking for someone above
insaano ke alawa who’s looking down at me
ya, dost who’s not looking down at me
na count kare wins, na count losses
na khoe khudko in aafaton mai
bas khelte rahein seekh ke rounds often
[verse 2: vyce]
i been down, trodden
see the depth in the sound? ’cause i drowned often
left the jokes for the clown who were ’round mockin’
f~ck the cloaks and the crowns and, even if it sounds c~cky
take success with a pinch of salt
’cause they gonna post their wins and you think it’s all
but forget the losses that account for it
now who’s down for it?
who’s in? f~ck it! who’s in?
though i’mma keep every change that i get
but your two cents, not a leave a loose end
tie up the noose that’s placed on your neck
won’t be me who’s stuck in a loop
i struggle to see what you struggle to do
up in the booth, like i got something to prove
give everything for the win i got nothing to lose
[break]
h~ll yeah! if you don’t love my size?
shut the f~ck up
you know how i mean, them ain’t the scary ones
the quiet mfs, that’s who you watch
them the k!llers
yo the loudest mf in the club, is a b~tch
that n~~~a loud ’cause he scared and he hope he scarin’ you
n~~~a, you know what i’m sayin’? i’ll f~ck it up!
is this scarin’ ya’ll? ’cause i’m scared than a mf
real k!llers are quieter than a mf
[verse 2: vyce]
never fell for the fakeness, i’m chasing my inner greatness
you will never understand how vital to me, this rap game is
yes! young guru and preem
soul yce the new gangstar, we flood up the scene
b~tch try me and i’ll show you
my ten thousand hours spent grinding in the dojo
refining up the vocals, though its
flawed plenty but authentic
deliver soul in its purest form the way god meant it
fly like the last leaf in a book
i’m alive like the last leaf painted by old behrman
habit for digging’ crates, i’m perpetually soul searchin’
now my sole purpose is spittin’ flames and flow b~tter
ain’t no in between, its nothing or all
with time i’ll have a mural throwing stuff at the wall
such is the passion, i’m turning blunders to magic
got a lot on my plate so i keep the hunger to match its
catalysts for renaissance, this pen in my palm
bled poems to reach your headphones not ringing alarms
aiming for something timeless something beyond
these words will echo forever even after i’m gone
pray the day they get the candles to light
may god bless my hustle when i hand off the mic
(soul!)
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