Foreign Beggars - Prime Source [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Verse 1]
My mind's in a million places, reconstructing thousands of conversations
With fading faces and tongue-tied up like knotted laces
Waiting for the day the sanctions on my soul get lifted
Twisted off the high grade bung thinking I'm gifted
I'm scared shitless, every next man's a witness
To these dark days, my soul's this cold for eternity like icy pathways
Your crew seems to sense a certain benevolence in my presence
Evidently taken aback by the lack of benevolent sentiments
Been known to this cold-hearted inspiration, got me chasing pieces of paper
Hastily wasting precious time constantly blazing
Dissing crazy rappers that actually think that they're amazing
Re-arranging faces and ley-mans for entertainment
Clocked a breder, stopped a proper [?] for is Dr. Pepper
Making cocky rappers kinda jealous cos we rocked it better
People find security in packs that's why the plot together
[?] Robin Goods will never fail to rock a track forever

[Verse 2]
Yo me and [?] got to be rocking on soul joints til our bones ache
And then the beat just stops...
No break
But we carry on
With lines that carry long
Lines like a marathon
Our minds where the madness from
Standing up strong to the bone-breakers
Dough-takers and soul rapers
They're as dirty as coal rakers
I'd rather be a father at thirty with no paper
Working nine to five for a fiver an hour wager
Not handling funds, they're all noughts
We handling huns and forethoughts
To stick in our minds like [?]
Some rappers might try but they fall short
Mis-hitting their raps to the wrong side of the ball court
We slicing em down as we see fit
That's usually with brutally rehearsed verses so the whole town's in deep shit
We split hairs breders stare with their mouths gaping
In more suspense than is there when the crowd's waiting

[Hook]
The type rise we're the prime source
The mind force combined with the right thoughts
Be bruising 'em up like fight-sports
With no gloves show no love to tight source
Trying to lock us down for the trouble that we might cause

[Verse 3]
Yeah
[?] with more force than forty warlords
Sicker than all of that walking stalking cohorts
Sporting all sorts of emotions fueled by hatred
Burning up at the ends of the golden opputrunites I wasted
Remember back in the day when it was all good, we used to go rave
But now become a slave to the pen and paper just trying to fucking make it
Craving for a little bit of success to make it worth it
Spitting fast [?]
Stopping these cats spaying the rap litter
Eagerly the fat spitter, people see me believe that their chat bitter
[?] the track fitter
Plus drop, to make the average listener realise that the wack must stop
We bust up boys to the side of the road like bus stops
They lack wisdom, but we smacking the rap kingdom
Happily exacting revenge, in fact bringing them
A lack of pretence, apprehending rappers in England

[?] be the one significant other
Making all the brothers shudder like rubbery blubber udders
It's a wonder this far and stayed sane
Whilst leaving the most heinous of rap crews looking lame

Yo in the mainframe so many rappers are playing games
That should have remained in Staines but instead have come for big-ups
And it's a crying shame that their minds are kind of lick-up
Like junkies in chains that's in pain to get their liqour

We're living in strange times, ruled by law-makers with strange minds
Where schools are rendered useless and fames claimed by train-lines

Most cats flip that bread stop til this track's dead
In London waving they're youngest brothers are crackheads

We're living each day to break the chains of social slavery
Believe it we're individuals while the media deems us nameless, see

And that's the reason they made us mean and ready
To be the very heaviest rappers up on the raving scene

[Hook] x 2