lirik lagu taqexs - guns n roses
[ verse 1]
“only rapper to rewrite history without a pen…”
the r.n. repairing history without they piety
preaching this riot into society
the last one speaking truth, but the liars be
the last hired, first fired, why denyin’ me?
they tell me faith is a weapon, but who do it aim at?
i talk about grief but they saying i lack hope
but how i’m supposed to find god when the pastor got backdoored?
seen people steal plate then shake hands like it’s protocol
preaching holly sh~t, but no one ever spoke to y’all
you made a album ‘bout my sister and named it “reprise”
purpose? replaying the times, but tell me who gon’ carry her cries?
who gon sit with her mother and look in her eyes?
you putting names in rhythms, but you can’t carry the signs
sincerely tell me if you did it for pain or for fame?
cuz i really can’t tell how much you loved her in vein
you can’t dodge a fate once it’s already chose
can’t stretch a wound when its already closed
so that means my purpose to me makes no profit or peace
they profit off pain, but you still mockin’ the grief
they wrote my debt, but they always looked down on me
‘cause poverty don’t come with apologies
but your weight’s only worth it if it breaks something
and my back was the first thing to crack from it
i can’t relate with fame or labels, that sh~t didn’t sit well with me
i got a cycle that most of yall will relate to see
labels tell us to speak truth, but speak it in rhythm
‘cause they don’t hear our stories unless the beat can convince ‘em
so when they ask why i write, i say, “look at my people,”
you want the real? then don’t clip my wing mid~speech, though
last time you wrote “won’t last a day” some people said they felt empathy
aside from what i heard on the news, but the guilt sat ahead of me
they say love inside of foolish people is there when you need
but all i felt in that moment was my future recede
when i held ‘er like time could rewind if she just gripped a little tighter
but love don’t bargain with death, it just makes the moment brighter
cincearly reggie
[ verse 2]
“i never met someone that demanded attention”
with hands that trembled like scriptures i ain’t had the strength to mention
met a man who sat me, and the ground beneath me ain’t feel the same
like gravity done grave way to guilt, and pain had a name
he asked me for a story, not a cent or a dime
just to listen like i ain’t had a past to rewind
i replied, “this world broke me, i don’t trust a hand that ain’t bleedin’”
he said, “neither did i, ‘til i stopped searchin’ for meanin’
i cough a tremor in his eye like a war was still brewin’
he said, “your voice been echoin’ in places you never knew in
you rap like salvation’s a mixtape away
but every rhyme that you spit, makes ‘em forget how to pray
your sister ain’t sleep, she just dreamin’ too deep
and every tear that you held in, i had to swallow and keep”
said, “the pain that you feel ain’t your cross alone to bear
but the louder your mic gets, the less room there is for air”
i snapped: “then what the f~ck am i supposed to do with this pain?”
he laughed soft, “you’re mistakin’ the storm for rain”
i said, “you talkin’ too poetic, get to the point,”
he said, “you tryna roll up trauma and pass it like it’s a joint”
“you fightin’ to be heard in a world where silence is gold
but son, not every story you sell should be sold”
i said, “you know what i’ve seen? what i’ve lost?” he replied, “i do
but you blame the weight of grief, when it’s pride carryin’ you.”
he stood up slow, shook the dust from his coat
then placed a hand on my shoulder like he knew every quote
he said, “don’t write me like a metaphor that came and left
write me like the silence right before a last breath.”
i said, “who are you?” he said
“i’m the reason you rhyme like you’re tryin’ to repent
the moment your sister passed—i was the one she sent.”
i stepped back like the air got sn~tched from my lungs
he said, “call it god, call it grief—either way, i was the tongue.”
then he vanished in the wind like he wasn’t even real
and i looked down to see my notebook closed and sealed
turned the page…
and found her name written in ink that bled—
and the title read: “you talked to me after i was dead……”
[outro: ronald isley]
i washed my hands, i said my grace
what more do you want from me?
tears of a clown, guess i’m not all what it’s all meant to be
shades of grey will never change if i condone
turn this page, help me change to right my wrongs
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