Vinny Crook$ - Solitude [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Prod. By Donato Beats]

(Verse 1)
Them concrete jungles breed militants
Spit for the Ritalin regiment, riches I'm in the pursuit
Blind prospects in our living, need patience and virtue
If nobody gone feel this, they might as well kill me
Bumpin BG’s fourth album as a kid I wanted grilling
In the lab trying to be Hov, I was big dreaming
Handed a wad of Jokers when my cards was dealing
My scars concealing, cause some wounds are unappealing
Codeining, pro leaning, to cope with my demons
My uncles peddled coke with blood money in pimps semen
Snoozing with a baby bottle full of booze in a booster
Hearing lukewarm lullabies of Marvin that i’m used to
I’ve been leaving to visit my fam for a while
Twin Cities where i’m from but LA my second town
Underground airplay I do it for
Had a lucid dream of being the goat then I comatose

(Hook)
I don’t fuck with y’all, fuck you, fuck you, and fuck you
I don’t fuck with y’all, fuck you, fuck you, and fuck you
I don’t fuck with y’all, fuck you, fuck you, and fuck you
I don’t need nothing at all, but a moment of solitude
Maybe a potion of brew, maybe a bad bitch or two
Three or four grams of kush, and my music to ride to

(Verse 2)
We hate people that love us, and love people that hate us
How could this world recover, if God took a hiatus
These snakes on our ankles they trying to sprain us
Double cross em, go ape shit, thats an ultimatum
Take a trip on this bizarre ride, shouts to Pharcyde
Spread my Backwoods wide, and jump on cloud nine
It’s hypnotizing inspiration, get high with my installation
With no final destination, I got goldmines in my bones
You gone wish I was never gone, recite when I write these wrongs
You gone admit I was right you was wrong, modern day Psalms
Parlay next to bombs that detonate beside your pro’s and cons
My cousin sobbing in the kitchen over setbacks
Her baby daddy’s getting rubs on his back from a wetback
He won’t hit the grind but kick back and smoke his Black
Split his daughters similac, to cop new linen on his back
It’s all about the dough that your fake friends wanna gather
It’s all about the hoes, that your girl can’t fathom
It’s all about the clothes, that your moms can’t answer
Living the scenes of those movies, actors with
Choppers singing like operas, coming around like Phantoms
I got steam outta my ears, and i’m beasting all of my peers
Ain’t no fear pump in my blood, spreading love in my hood
The aroma of victory is getting to me and I wanna taste it
How can I run from the devil if I ain’t never faced him