Final Outlaw - Final Outlaw Theory II [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Verse 1: FinaL OutlaW]

I’m like a mathematician, back slash magician
Back slash musician, back slash politician
My primary competition lacks vision
Just give em a couple of stacks and some scantily clad women
I’m glad to be back spittin’, my battery packs filled
My bladder is past max capacity, quit asking me
For collabs, I don’t condone rapping with fans
That throw tantrums and act like grown babies and Stans
I’m coming with the most wickedest
You come outdated and unfinished like australopithecus
At low flames, my flow SIMMERS
I spit no FILLERS, Gold chains I crush them to gold glitter
I spit heat that’ll keep you hot through cold winter
I’m still here like Occupy after November
Oh Man, I came to behold plans
Straight from the soul I’ma bestow through the whole land
My own fam was takin’ advantage
Those I considered friends was turning they backs
And I just sat there, not saying a thing
Not hating, but I’m definitely not waiting for them
Cause I’m free now, and I’ve got a mean style
I write and I freestyle, the fire can breathe now
I’ve done had it; I’m ready to start challenging
Any authority, whether a rookie or seniority
Its no fable, I’m ready to volcano
The levee is unstable, my temper un-playful
With enough rage to punch you in the navel
So hard it’ll knock the wind out of your guardian angel
I’m breaking rules, and I’m running with it
I’ll meat cleaver king Midas’s hands, and snuff him with it
I’m upset cause the shit I came up on
Seems to have just left, seems to be long gone
Days that we bumped Pac, days that we bumped Nas
Days that we bumped Em, days that we bumped Pun
Those were the days when the basics was just fun
Nowadays I feel like the racists have must won
What have we got here? Too many cops here
Too many shots here, too many flops here
Too many cats claiming to be the greatest to ever do it
When the truth is these impersonators just got here
I’m from a top tier, I run with the top boys
Plottin’ since cash money came out with the hot boyz
Homie I got noise, homie I got jams
That’ll make grand pop stand up and say, “Got damn”
This young man is sharp and he’s not playing
I’m tearing apart metal with Mario cart shells
And the scariest part is that I channel a dark realm
Where a chariot falls from heaven carrying Sean Bell
And he carries a crucifix that he lances across hell
While Harriet Tubman and Lauryn Hill unlock cells
Of innocent kids, to vindicate immigrant kin, incinerate sin
I generate phlegm to represent my generation
I provide syntax for examination
So sit back and bump to my algorithm
I know that you’re sick and you suffer from malnutrition
Perhaps the root is all the trash you listen to
It makes you mad and makes you miserable
Maybe all the songs about killing niggas and fuckin’ many bitches
Is really only killing the individual in you
WHOO, that’s deep ain’t it?
Not really, its obvious to me damn it, you see
It doesn’t take a savant to pick this apart
This is intricate art, from a genuine heart
So if you feel the same click the like button
And write something, and cop my album on I-tunes its like $9 somethin'