3-15 - 6th Grade [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

6th Grade
3-15

1st Verse:
I snatched a pen, grabbed my notebook;
Fuck this homework, -it can wait./
This new idea buggin' me -won't stop for Satan's sake./
Gimme a big enough canvas and brush so I can paint./
Then splatter like spatter; I'm after a Picasso and Van Gogh fate./
I strangulate; Tech doin' tongue twisters,/
Is like me simply spittin sickly sixteens after Swishers./
I'm off the richter./
I'm far from stigma -I'm enigma./
Common symptom: my flawless rhythm causes a lot of hippin',/
And hoppin' like Scottie Pippen./
I'm grindin' but off the rails;/
Tony Hawk oughta make me an icon
Cause this rappin' surely won't and I will fail./
I'm at sea with fishy MCs; choruses got me hooked when I'm blue and wail./
Show ya what a Rubik's Cube flow entails./
I've made a habit of rapid, rabid rappin';/
Nobody's clappin'; my tactic's only practice 'til I attack the masses./
Feelin' bouncy; lousy bands make her dance -ridonculous asses- beyond the fastest,/
Asian with a pocket protector and glasses./

I think it's time I get out my shell; a hermit's on the bottom of the totem pole./
Never would be notable if I'm not some quotable,/
Spitta with some sociable skills -lookin' approachable./
Anxiety gets me emotional,/

And yet, I manage to get around the block spittin sixteens and hittin' petites./
Get 'em in sheets; givin' 'em titties a squeeze./
Freak 'em and leave; don't call -- I play the game and repeat./
I've covered all bases; it's why Im'a beat,/
All the ones thinkin' they runnin' the game./
I'll make fun of a lame; I turn a nun to a babe./
Of course, I'm simply one of the same,/
Angels from above and the flame./
Dang, must be how I come and then came./ (Haha.)

I love how I began writing at twelve and got to where at without so much as a decent crowd,/
But people peep me now./
My duty's to make sure you don't leave with doubt -so hear me out./
Oh, you not feelin' me?
Well, I am; scream and shout./

I love this new style that I'm schemin' wit'./
Ever since I was teamin' wit' Knu and introduced G to Fif,/
It's indeed a pith./
So if I need a hit after I drink a fifth and heed to split,/
It's cause I'm 'bout to beat a beat and leave it stitched./

Had I known that I would come to rap with ease,/
I'd'a start sooner with strategies,/
Internals and slant rhymes
I never would'a rapped with these,/
Other local so-called MCs./
They don't worry 'bout their rappin -just the fashion from their steez,/

But I'm not like the rest that's spammin' up ya inbox./
I quit that shit some time ago, and fuckin' thin sluts bored of fuckin' thin cocks./
That's why 'em Clackamas babes prefer one Javier over ten jocks./
I'm different from how another rapper in Portland talks./
Maybe it's the way I watch my grammar like a Nazi holding ten clocks./
Either way, I love spittin' hard and gettin' laid like cement blocks.../

(You might think I'm… ah, fuck…)

I had to get that tag outta the way; now that I have, I can keep rippin',/
Or maybe let the beat ride out for you fucks that keep thinkin',/
That I'll say anything that means somethin', then cease spittin',/
But I keep trippin'; every rapper in Portland thinks that he's sittin',/
On some throne, bad to the bone -who is he kiddin'?/