KAS (felix) - Angles Pt. 2 [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Verse 1: KAS]
I wake up early in the morning to a doobie and some section.80
I live a Poe Man’s Dreams, I pray they always chase me
Smoke good, eat good, till I’m actin crazy
Who’s line is it anyway, bitch I’m Wayne Brady
Bitches got me on wild’n out cuz the ethanol
I been on point with the pen to the decimal, (its all mathematics)
They dancing to the numbers not the music
Son I’m the 1 2 3peat 4 y’all how we do this
Smoking tulips, what a harmony
They hands on they head when they find my mind’s armory
I’m no musician shit I’m just a rapper
Trynna materialize from this ghost like I’m Casper
So turn me up till the speakers blow
Araab got them singing all that you need to know
‘Nothing’s gonna get me’ I’m a fucking dog
Make a hater shape shift like punk-rocker frogs
I been sharp but I’m cut at high stakes
Shit I should pass the beat more for some tolerance breaks
So it can, sober up ‘for I come through wit kilos
Weed smoke, smell the diesel from the trio
We know, the supremo, blastin steelo
Reload, run shit, got a stitch like Lilo
I been said I feel eased with this rap shit
Pass it, they impressed with the phat tracklist
Avid, rappers get checked, I ain't passive
KAS is, nothing but the best, psychoactive
My words got substance on some drug shit
Act foul, like Jim Levenstein bitch I’ll bust quick, (gun shots)

[Verse 2: AKA]
I bring fear fierce tears like El's career speared ears
Meat machine - lean-cuisine rappers smeared on gears
I flow quicksand, liquid earth, drown a man in land
Dry every gland, the taste of my brand, Taste of Iran
Persia, Iran, shah for an eon
Crown brown Yo Samity Sam for his treason
Hip hop is garbage, Spitters missing they targets
Sitting pretty in markets wishing they had an audience
Obvious!
Gass em up, ask for the candy stock
Swag talk, booty bitties, hired help for crews
Ship em off to the mags for hot chart reviews
Bring em' to me, I'll make your 10 croon winter blues
The cleanest cut of hip hop since bebop and weed dropped
Funky fresh seed pop make you groove till your knees stop
Then move a little more, the flow is so adored
Like the smile of the newborn birthed in a winter storm
AKA the barbarian, youngest of the contrarians
Murderous humanitarian, vocals of proletariats
Iranian uranium banging inside my cranium
Radiating membrane be lighting up every stadium
Dr. Musical, AKA to the rescue
High-minded, highlighted scribbles in math binders
Rewind and feel the shine dripping from the speaker iron
Twisted metal hot from the kettle makes the speaker blind
My drum heats violent beats for vibrant streets
Cities, farms and suburbs, rain, snow, shine or sleet
I weather the weather whether for worse or for better
Each letter can sweat a liter of blood from the effort
I'm putting into music, this is thread that I'm spooling
To keep you people warm in the night when you're snoozing
On the mic I turn horizons sweet into thunderstorms
Breathe in Reds, purples, blues where the sky is torn
Always straight original, chemical syllables
Enriched and cultivated with the purest hip hop minerals
That still my targets citadel, and smith my arrows plentiful
See my feathers reding your head - so suitable