The Downtown Collective - Hol' Up (Remix) [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Intro: Henry Was]
We drop a beat to double take to
Masterpiece to mack a mate too
Mack this track up in ya bedroom
Undies sink ya need a canoe
Fire's got you lighting candles
Acting crazy getting tattoos
In twenty years you can tell ya kids
This is what they made too

[Hook 1]
Hol' Up, Hol' Up, Hol'Up, Hol' Up
Hol' Up, Hol' Up, Hol'Up, Hol' Up
Yeah big shit poppin, everybody watchin
When your shockin em like the dead rising out a coffin

[Verse 1: Henry Was
White wine with the swagger, stumbling but spitting daggers
Unlikely and ass backwards, but too assy of an actor
Quickly become a factor, just need to forget my mathematics
Only got attic space for my craft and nasty habits
Mackin tracks like a rabbid rabbits
Banged a bunny, played Aladdin
She doing work on the carrot
She tells me her wishes granted
I'm feeling like Roman planets
She's wetter than thirsty salmon
I'm thinking how dope the moment
She's sinking into the satin (Hol up)
And I swang it right back in
This one face hip-hop best not forget despite the melanin
Say one thing bout eminem and I'll fucking fist ya filaments
We that unique specimen, cultured, bring you that medicine
Its the darier denizen, telamon venison
Of the feline gelatin, Semi-geniune gentleman
Best of bedside Beduins
Rolling with dolphins, they reveling and
Singing my praises, flipping out
Leaving with exoskeletons
The regimen's definite, pelican of the estrogen
Sending texty-ass sexts goin elephant from 'merica to
Edmonton, Lebanon, rap a lap back to China town
Rap this track half to death, you had best stab it with adrenaline

[Hook 2]

[Verse 2]
This that English poetry, meets street prose and hosiery
Hoes know its me, Handsome result of they rosaries
The road erodes in front of he who cast the first stone
Guess that makes me the demon who rise up to claim the throne
I've got a mind that split in half between my current life and the last
I've got memories that probably make me seem madder than hats
I've got dreams that probably make me seem sadder than that
Giving up college degrees cause he's obsessing with rap
Time to be dropping the act, a white rabbit and cap
I'm a scrub of the rats, scratching just to rise up the pack
A blind man up to bat, he's straight swingin hardly tell if he's missin
Or if the ball rise like Tatum glisses
Oh god damn it lost my marbles and glasses
Studio cables as mixed up as my mind's tangled masses
Elastic span of attention but his hunger is Jurassic
Spastic, but determined till he drops into the casket
Tragic, could have been a doctor or a lawyer or a thief
But Chance, and K, and J slammed these words into my sleep
Not quite selling me soul, but I'm selling my seat
On the top of the heap begging for scraps at rap's feet, Hol' Up


[Trumpet Solo: JJ Kirkpatrick]

[Hook III]

[Sax solo: Rob Sheppard]

[Hook IV]