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lirik lagu the gateway drug - nintendo

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[verse one- the top civilian]
this goes… to my youth: to reading weekly readers
always being too heavy so my totter only teetered
paying meters with pockets of loose change
still wash with lever 2000- things have changed
they seek the matters, you maintain the facts
don’t decipher life by acid-coating your lower back
like my deejay did. open your ears and listen in
side effects of the drug-induced life that we lived
paper clips hold my pages so the haters can diss
quick to point fingers, but never ever penned a script
doves cry, but make love just like the pigeons
…feed ‘em dry rice ‘til they explode just like your opinions
i can’t spake russian, hope i’m speaking your language
not the same shit you listen to on the regular baggage-
in excess. my best guess is i aim to impress
leave you like a fish: wet and breathless like…

[verse two- mc brew]
it’s embedded in my genetics, so i’ll never forget this
receiving no credit, gets hectic
sequestered into reckless words
blurting out until it gets unnerving
i’ve refrained from the complaining
that’s waning ‘cuz to blame things instead of taking action
grabbing the reigns against the grain- restraining
so, may i reinstate nothing that seems faint?
just point blank with the rest of the team would be great
now i’ve been deeply plunging since the beginning past the end of that whole grunge thing
wanting one thing: that’s progress and thought
i’ve always been expunging
burning sensation as if it’s acid refluxing
as we keep clutching a false sense of hope and can’t cope
the false image of what we trust to some
it’s a trembling feeling that seems overwhelming
speech therapy in which i dare to be carefree
no guidelines to follow ‘cuz you can live your life to lose
or you can refuse to take refuge

[verse three- the top civilian]
either you have it, you lack it, had it but you lost it
can write a good flow, maybe can freestyle flawless
most are jawless, so you’s best to check your dentures
this misadventure’s broadcast uncut and uncensored
try to test me, i’ll get randier than savage
make a pro look like the average fan forcing the habit
for the record- this ain’t about diamond mines
so while you paper-chase and hate, i’ll toss tingles to spines
only mingle with like-minds to keep myself stable
leave the weak behind, the fake kind here to make pesos or any denomination
give me a vain to stick my pain in
stop complaining. when atlas falls, he calls the rain in
i’ll be up-the-wall climbing, the feed me hand i’m biting
trying to find my way, before my way finds me fighting
cop-a-feel from a cop to get out of a ticket…
my life’s a post-it note; i got nowhere to stick it like…


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