Flight Subject - Hell Bound [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Intro (A Capella): Rogers]
Since a seed I was surrounded by people who blew trees, and consumed by greed
I was always down...
Mamma warned me about fuckin' around
We all love to sin, but rather dip than sit when consequences come around
Rollin' around with the windows down
Middle fingers up, aiming at any fucks, acting immature and loud
Mamma always told me that I was hell bound...

[Verse 1: Rogers]
Seventeen born and raised near crime scenes
Wicked minded, check the neighborhood website
Crook sited
Jagger rolling up heavy green
Bottle capsules full of PCP
About to levitate out of our seats
I'm drunk as fuck and I finnah drive tonight
Pedestrian out of luck
Got him bleeding out on the side
Walk, Cross walk me you finnah get hit
Pull over and refigure your face with a brick
Mailbox is what I'm bound to hit
When I'm drunk driving a stick shift
My middle finger joints be the stiffest, (FUCK YOU)
Pull into a middle school and wave to all the kids
Introduce them to a 9 and a Mac 11
Haha..
I'm kidding bruh
I'm still a little sane
But this weed be getting to my brain
Finnah kill this pop ass faggot Zane
Line them all up in One Direction
Point the revolver in their Direction, (Blat!)
One shot, collateral damage
Then rob their body's, scavengers and savages
FS, we spreading through your society like a virus
Three Men working late at night
Three housewives
And three kitchen knives
Painted each one bloody red in the broad moon light
I'm alive in the night, Cudi
Got frost bite on my wrist, Rolex heavy
I steal your beats and kill em
Charged with Kidnapped and premeditated murder
Meet you in court with a dagger
And stab the jury in the chest till they can no longer talk just blabber
Yeah motha fucka I got them hell
Yeah motha fucka I got them hell bound

[Verse 2: Rogers]
A revolver loaded with six shells
That are all expelled
Pull the trigger an force them to enroll in your brain cells
I got a hit list
Well, it's more of a shit list
Full of boy bands who should of been born with woman's breast and be addressed as bitches
I got knuckles full of braces
Blades that are all inside of my ex's faces
I'll pull a bitch by her weave, spank her ass, and make her roll my trees
Six grams of weed
Six joints rolled to the six point
Blowing two O's cubed
Yeah that's to the third power
Now go ahead and subtract two
Laced with cocaine
Selling it to minors
So their high school has HIGH expectations
But fall far below standards

[Verse 3: Crude]
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[Verse 4: Crude]
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[Outro: Rogers]
The area code is Three digits
One plus Five
We got Three Six packs with Three bitches that were all born on the 6th of June
The 6th be our 4th of July
Tell heaven ain't no one standing in line
(Yeah mother fucker I got em hell bound!)