DEV3N - Control (Freeverse) [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Verse 1: Slayd]

Tell Kendrick that he done provoked a menace
That run with a coalition. Of flow-ers with no intentions
Of slowing or showing weakness. Just step in the booth
And treat it like I ain't got no fuckin' clue what peace is
I sever any competitor into pieces
Appeasing my audience while my presence becomes prestigious
So peep this, I'm 3 sick
I'm so above y'all, if I fell off I'd probably land on a G6
Got all these of local rappers afraid of me
They don't take shots, not ones for bravery
From now on you get the dial tone if you ain't talking bout paying me
And nahh I ain't no god, but all of you niggas prey to me
Rewind bout 3 times when I speak lines
To the big dogs I'm a big dog, the rest of yaw felines. Hah
You need about 3 minds and some speaker cables
To really understand what I speak-on
Its happening, I'm grappling. The key
The games locked and i need what you squares guarding like Madison
This craft I be mastering, I should have a masters in
Rap. Sharp as a mid air traveling javelin
The compositions i dismantle yaw couldn't dabble in
Me an them equals? Yaw better do that math again
Slayd, y'all ain't half of him. Don't make me have to snap again
Fuck it, I'll just let my nigga dot have them then

[Verse 2: Deviiin]

First and Foremost, I thank you Mr. Lamar
All you said to me was "Grind", as I begged you to let me spar
With your intelligence, irrelevant evidence made it evident
That one word embedded a million hearts into my negligence
Which now a black chariot, carries it to it's grave
With this playing in back, serenading the slaves
Of the underworld, all held captive - shackles and chains
To last eternally, all along with my fuckin' name
I refuse to be a two-bit, afraid to be loose lip
Rhymer, only pushin' for pussy, money, designer
And pushin' Maseratis, designated model driver
I'd rather be sharin' views with Puffy Combs and Cassandra
Over facetime, minutes before a interview with dateline
'Bout how to save the world, from the peril we seem to face blind
Racism, hate crimes, terrorism and fake lies
All strategically placed, to make us board windows and shade blinds
But who am I? a rapper? workin' a 8-5?
In a dirty warehouse, while tryna' escape the mob
And the life that I used to claim, and that gun that used to "9"
And the close calls that rang, made me wana' resign
From my blacktop podium, niggas was throwin' sodium
Me and Loc-Oh, was out traffickin' with Ozium
George Jung - Mohammed, Finger twistin' is-Lamic
Hippopotamus hungry, stomach touchin' my fuckin' spinal
Might as well Co-sign me, to go against me like drivin'
Off a fuckin' mountain top, in a drop top while reclinin'
Ya baby in backseat, un-strapped, bitchin' and cryin'
Hunnid Racks, a kilo, and a strap passenger sidin'
5 illegal immigrants, a plan to remake Rwanda
Floor plans of the White House, Ransom note for the Dalai Lama
Broadcasted worldwide, by the news through basic cable
A thousand GTA stars, and the cheat codes disabled