Aspiring Wijsdom - Crime Rate Thesis [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

Homies all in jail, I call it cytopoesis
“Government loving to raise a crime rate” thesis
Rap doesn’t go to jail; it throws up bail, like I can beat this
Society doesn’t need this, weakness
Peep this – x3
Call it a crime rate thesis


Everybody exchange stories
Something to do with confidence
Like look you can't ignore me
I can down 6 forties
And have done drugs so gory
They might make your face melt
So give me the belt and glory

Nah Shorty, that shit be weak
When I was in my fucking peak
I slept with different girls every day of the week
A fucking sheik
Had a harem, each a freak
Cared for not one single tit
Rob and steal and then we'd eat
Hardest on all of the streets

Beat it boy that shit be lame
I fucked your mom and gave her brain
I've bet you've never even banged
Drugs and bitches, switching lanes
Different names, sniffing pain
Been in the trap since I came
Out the womb, in the rain
Born on the wing of a plane

Mane that's just fucking stupid
You ain't shit I'm fucking cupid
Putting all these fiends on new shit
Y'all be grass, while I be tulips

Doofus we know you’re a vag
You sell them empty bags
Only hold that Glock you have
I've stolen more blood than your rag

Tag, can I have a second
I don't mean to rudely step in
I've just noticed all this flexing
Is like speaking words then texting
I feel you're feeling less than you should
I'm wondering if you could explain to me
Why you see that as good?


Million singles from apple
Vevo trillions of times
He never get's arrested though
Tell me if it's a crime
X4


The industry’s butterfly is their fucking prisons
I see our scene and I sigh, kids stay high off visions
Consequence of decisions, and then some shit provisions
Profits won't make no revisions, this is just sick we live in
Times where crimes don’t fit their punishment
You do what they tell you to do, and find yourself in front of it
Your mother near to “son I quit”; then prison systems cover it
Up with some racist fuck, and a truck full of cops with clubs and pits
And rappers spit on shit that's half considered snitching
Literally in his video cooking crack in his kitchen
FBI must be out fishing; drinking expidition
I'm well, wishing, for general admission
So sick I could yell, listen, they're speakers spit madness into
This living hell, in which people can't help giving
The time of day, hit rewind and play; find yourself pissing
The hours away, how'd you say nothing but sound different?
Gossip is what they're pitching
Profit's keep on their mission
My thoughts are honestly different
I wish that y'all would chip in

I'm sniffing it cause I'm sick
She fits on my dick
I want to become rich
Then quit this shit quick

Smoke, steal, and split
This dope feels legit
I’m gonna become rich
Then quit this shit quick

Divine long as I'm lit
I savor every bit
I'm fine one more hit
Then I'll quit this shit quick