Crooked I - Can I Talk to You? [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Verse 1: Crooked I]
Me not writing an album every 7 days
Is as odd as you meting a reverend that never prays
It's as rare as me not packing a pistol in the 7th grade
It's like surviving a shot from every weapon ever made
See I'm on an everlasting endeavor for better days
Gotta vendetta for chedda',I'm ripping whatever stage
And I'm way more than some metaphors and clever phrase
Way more than a chain and some size 11 J's
I'm a pyromaniac , looking for mics to set ablaze
I'm psycho "braniac", focused, my brain never sways
And my mind's a maze , with 187 ways
For me to get out my mind and let that Beretta raise
Or pop the shotgun, betcha never met a gauge
Leave you deader than dead, stop your breath, it won't let you age
Disrespect me , expect me to protect me and catch a case
Address me as Letha face , Jessy Smith & Wesson James
Not to spit in heaven's face , but I live in this hellish place
Where people are rebelling, selling hate and expelling grace
In the ghetto , a piece of metal's in every felon's waist
The devil's pedaling Wicked thoughts out at an excelling pace
Medellin in affairs, all for nectar you never taste
Fools ingest, those fall victim, hope you rest in a better place
Maybe we should all pray instead of measures of lesser faiths
See , I been there before , bad weather the pressure makes
And as strange as it sounds, I forever will treasure snakes
Cause they make me appreciate my **Bredren** who never fake
Swear to god , I'm writing albums like every 7 days
With no effort then I trash em , them records I never play
But today I'm letting letters connected digest the page
My collective perspective are effective when expressing rage
Respect it , I'm expected to select a domestic cage
In a pen for felonies, they said it would never pay
And this is what they say bout you niggas who ghetto raised
Let 'em face hunger and deadly plagues
No questions, they caching strays
They sexin' and catchin' aids,a wretched phase
Our community's in, it's like we gotta be Edgerrin James
Just to dodge obstacles , kids homeless, they never ate
Living in shelters, momma failed inspection from section 8
And these politicians are bitches with shit they legislate
Convicted felons are slaves so prison they'd rather make
Free labor is paper for corporations in every state
So they target us niggas, man I carry this heavy weight
I meditate, picture myself in front of heaven's gates
Open my eyes, I'm still in the hood, for heaven's Sake !

(CAN I TALK TO YOU ?)