Salvation

Riviir

Compositor: R. Mitchell

Riding through Queens, strapped with two Glocks
Screaming thug life like I think I'm 2Pac
But I'm not
My name is Káy, a young thug from da island
These motherfucking streets has turned me into a tyrant
Tired of this thug shit, tired of ducking sirens
All my enemies annihilated, perpetually silenced
Thank you lord, I got guns to buss
I got weed to puff
A bad bitch to fuck, I don't need that much
I do this for da hood, when ya dreams are crushed
And you're collapsing to da ground, I'll be ya crutch
Send my love to Shyne, I buss shots to ya shit nigga
Godfather buried alive, I buss shots to ya hits nigga
I feel ya pain, shit's excruciating
I'm da hottest nigga in New York since da 50 Cent reign
Deny me of that claim, you gotta be fucking hallucinating
Uh

Crown me king, them other niggaz ain't real like me
Them other niggaz ain't real like me
Crown me king
Them other niggaz ain't real
You dig, like you know I wrote a lot of records in the Clinton Dannemora
Same place where 2Pac was locked up at, nah mean
I wrote some of them records on Rikers Island

I been husting since I was six
My heart froze when my brother gave me four bricks
That was da nineties, oh shit
Moved over ten thousand pounds of weed by o-six
Still I ain't rich
This ain't no fairytale, I never had a childhood
I'd change it all if I could
Been languished all my life, all the hurt I've known
So who da fuck gon tell me I don't deserve da throne
The goddess Arinitti blessed me, gave me her last kiss
Crowned me king, them other rapper's music wacker than Usher's last disc
Let it breathe
Take it how you wanna
Here's the recipe for love, bake it how you wanna
Buss a shot for my niggaz thugging on da corner
Buss a shot for my nigga Frass, the streets give you love
Hope you give it back, and free da Worl' Boss, keep it thugging on da Gaza

Crown me king, them other niggaz ain't real like me
Them other niggaz ain't real like me
Them other niggaz ain't real
I, I started to dislike the fact that people are making money
Like, more than liking the state of music

Spent so many years perfecting this flow
Made my first demo when I was thirteen years old
Shit was flawed
Decision was hard
I still put it out for y'all
A tape filled wit imperfect songs
This Is My Life, volume one
I pray for Jamaica, all the ghetto children
Growing up without a father, cause the cops killed em
Now their name in black ribbons
As I walk the battlefield, Selassie is my armor
Protected by Allah, anointed by The Dalai Lama
Awaiting my karma
Easy to lose faith cause redemption is scarce like a fierce iguana
Me and Nicko be thugging, holding it down
Been avoiding my fears, I'm owning it now
Queens, New York, now you're stuck with me
Brooklyn, Bronx, I hope you fuck with me
Come on

Crown me king, them other niggaz ain't real like me
Them other niggaz ain't real
Them other niggaz ain't real
Rap is poetry and it is, it isn't just
You know, it's thought provoking
It's thought behind it and there's great writing in rap as well

Uh, shout out to my nigga Lyfe Jennings
Welcome home nigga
Cry Nation, Ikáy
Make my own beats, spit my own rhymes
No need to look any further
We here
Queens, Kingston Jamaica, Da River
We in da building