The TroubleShooters, Mikal kHill, int eighty - Breeze

Cooking and the fires on, my minds blown
Scrape up against the grind stone, the times gone
The matter of fact, waving a skull and crossbones
Right beside a black flag, blow your spot with a cellphone
Oh no we make noise like Yoko
Throwing molotovs or maybe put you in a chokehold
Rhymes hit harder than the account was froze
So cold it's like my walk is filmed in slow-mo
A hundred networks and still running, connections are still tunneled
The transfers are still wired, the bills funneled
Understanding the misfires in all our lives
Too adverse to reality to call it pride
Access, unauthorized, I gray the line
Ultimatums with chances to stay inside
On a path of eternal endings and great divides
TroubleShooters originals you plagiarize
They can't hide, get flipped like a b-side
Claiming ride or die but i think you're playing both sides
La di da di… hearts racing up to the sky
Living long time to just let some shit slide
Point of pride… keep it realer than most
I'll be questioning your motives til I give up the ghost
Here's a toast… to the skeptics and outsiders
The ones pushing further bets on the outliers
The ones still out here cracking the code
But smart enough to know when they hear a dope flow
Overthrow, we stand vicious when toe to toe
In the moment, in transition, we know the road
Defined life by intermissions from show to show
My consciousness to the ether, I'm comatose
Ready, willing, able still delivering payloads
Amounted to the drowning from the lead on my ankles
Mortality, existence in one word, a casualty
Spinning round, pinning me down, feel the gravity
I'm running a slalom trying not to slap a tree
Folks that implied that they were fam were just dastardly
Some that didn't deserve it caught in a tragedy
Still a couple others sold us out for salary
But I can't hold a grudge, can't remember shit see
It's as clear as day, satellite TV
You might sail me down the river but I drink the sea
I can swim the current like a bassline on the beat.
Immersive, the wind that travels through the trees
Indicating presence by the motion of the leaves
Intensity of heat raise the temperature degrees
Alone in the moment, set the tone, you feel the breeze
We're ready for the late stage, end days, segue
The last time you hear TroubleShooters is your best day

Written by:
David Martinjak, Michael Hill

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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