Break Bread - Grown Ass Men [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Scratch Hook]
"Let me tell ya something" - KRS ONE 'Rappers R N Danja'
"I just want to do my jams with fam and slam into some hypeness" - The Artifacts 'C'mon Wit Da Git Down'
"Let me tell ya something"
"But biters and backstabbing rappers don't even like us" - The Artifacts 'C'mon Wit Da Git Down'

[Hook: John Smith]
I ain't a newjack to this, nah I'm through practicing
If the crews rapping kittle then move back a bit
Grown ass men in a game full of bad boys
Keep my name out your mouth
And my face out the tabloids

[Verse One: Pip Skid]
These times is as tough as a poor mans hands
In the hourglass you know you ran under sands
Abandon my plans, get a crib before I'm thirty
That shit ain't happening when my lyrics stay dirty
And my face stays...
Unmarketable
Even [?] rap people think it's remarkable
Don't want my photo beside a bottle of Coke
Just a pile of money so big it'll make a whale choke
No joke I know I'll never be rich
Without an accident or having the lotto hit
Oh shit
Yeah, I think these numbers are mine
Use my mom's birthday to pick the 6-49
But I'm
Not part of the media blitz
Just hand over the novelty check and then I split
Putting On The Ritz, Break Bread familia
Do our thing regardless of where they point the camera
I'm out

[Verse Two: mcenroe]
The Canadian rap scene's Tony Soprano
Has been creating a vaccine for flowing like guano
So if you ask me, the key to success here
Is not messing with bad beats and keeping your head clear
Can't conduct a think tank in a shit can
Maybe send your pink [?] on to back to being just fans
We can't link, there's a fundamental rift
As your hits inch forward like continental drift
We're not on the same page, a big stage aim
Like Big Game James, my name's fall of fameing
And I'm out to get paid for production
No doubt what I put out is grade A construction
Got drums as a function
The organ is tuning
Those of us bumping, we be forming a union
Known to a few and, the circle is growing
There's no time for fuming on the foolish not knowing

[Verse Three: John Smith]
Smith and Pip
Gruf and Yy
Mcenroe and Honeycutt those the fucking guys
Stuffed inside a minivan
Cat napping and dogs up lamping in the cabin
Either place we make it a habit
It beez that way, man made, it ain't magic
And I can't relate to fanatics
Complaining, they think not being famous is tragic
Do like Pringles and stack chips
Minus the handlebar and flying to Kandahar
Mingling plastic tanks with our troops
A full time crash event
Give me loot, cash, respect, demanding the vet
Plans in effect are we gambling? (Yes!)
Well that's a risk I'm willing to take
Like ice grilling jake
Our shit's killing these fakes

[Hook]

[Scratch Hook]