|
zuò cí : Richard Maule Emmanuel Nwaohai |
|
zuò qǔ : Richard Maule Shem Raeburn |
|
My hands are weak |
|
Heavy heart |
|
All that fire. . . |
|
My hands are weak |
|
All that rage |
|
Slowly falls. . |
|
Give me a date and time and I' ll help you picture my frame of mind |
|
13 I was accustomed to the playground in the palm of my hand |
|
Kicks were custom |
|
There was no law of the land for the ladies man |
|
But flip the script |
|
You' re a product of a single mother' s insecurities |
|
Moulded by her fears |
|
That facade you brave, is fake |
|
Gassed up and |
|
I see past your shell. |
|
Son |
|
You were born to change the world, |
|
But you' re hiding yourself behind the mask the typical class clown. |
|
Loud mouth, |
|
Picky hair |
|
Hard to hold down |
|
Cos Daddy wasn' t there |
|
Excuse after excuse |
|
Mum at work by time I woke for school, ironic she never saw her sun-rise |
|
Backpack on my back, note on the table |
|
I' ll be home by 9 |
|
And up late she would stay |
|
To make sure that we saw eye to eye |
|
Cross on my pendant still a million miles from heaven |
|
14 I survived a beating on a 97 |
|
Mistaken identity |
|
Could' ve easily been me |
|
on the News at 7 |
|
And |
|
By 16 I started Losing friends I considered family |
|
Fell for a girl that couldn' t stand with me |
|
Till I was in too deep, said f it all |
|
I mean I just couldn' t shake trouble |
|
In the Grange blocks with Courvos' bottles |
|
Feds circling, its hot boy, you don' t shuffle |
|
On my own I learnt the difference between familiarity and family |
|
And that right there was my amnesty |
|
I looked up to older niggas that grew tired |
|
But none of them said I can grow be an older admired |
|
None of them said my passion can sink ships |
|
When you just channel that fire |
|
I' ve always been motivated but at 17 I found some drive |
|
Cos if life offers you a new beginning, you take it and leap |
|
Make molehills out of mountain peaks |
|
Or get dirt thrown on you before you' re 6 feet deep |
|
My hands are weak. |
|
My hands are weak |
|
Heavy heart |
|
All that fire. . . |
|
My hands are weak |
|
All that rage |
|
Slowly falls. . |
|
18 in the college atrium I was daydreaming |
|
Chris, Kamaal and Akeem |
|
Said my poems gave em a new feeling |
|
And I found strength exposing my own weaknesses |
|
Side by side with my old demons - no choice but to overcome |
|
My many directions became one |
|
Live while you' re young |
|
But mould the man that you' d become |
|
I admittedly weren' t ready for the world yet |
|
Student loan weren' t enough, I can tell you bout debt |
|
Tell you bout pressure |
|
In my uni room strapping stanzas for depression |
|
The fact I' m even standing is a blessing |
|
I said I could' ve been mourned on the News at 7. |
|
Before 19, I had performed on the news at 7 |
|
I' ve had to hold my own to grow |
|
No |
|
I don' t boast - it' s the truth |
|
Sink or Swim? I had to choose |
|
At 21 with a 2: 1 |
|
21 with a pen doing 32' s just to get free |
|
21 on a good run |
|
Friends I had at 12 on the school run or shoot guns |
|
I do this for Mum |
|
But Mum doesn' t think this can build home |
|
Truth or no, |
|
I dunno |
|
All I know is this is the warm up |
|
Or the home stretch |
|
Christmas 15 shelving New Look genes |
|
By 2017, I was on every shop floor, every screen as compliments of the season |
|
Repeated it Summer 18 |
|
You' ve either heard or you' ve seen |
|
And if you' ve ever heard my story, |
|
I hope stand for me |
|
And If you don' t. . . sit down with me |
|
Speak with me |
|
Losing friends is no longer a trend I wish to continue |
|
I' m sorry that I' m still so sinful |
|
But I don' t judge a man before I know what he' s been through |
|
I left certain things behind to make sure I can handle my business right |
|
They say my future' s bright, |
|
I was raised in the darkness but it' s about time I that I come for my shine and took a step. . |
|
. . into the light |
|
Out from the shade |
|
Time moves on |
|
Memories fade |
|
My hands are weak |
|
Heavy heart |
|
All that fire. . . |
|
My hands are weak |
|
All that rage |
|
Slowly falls. . My hands are weak |
|
Heavy heart |
|
All that fire. . . |
|
My hands are weak |
|
All that rage |
|
Slowly falls. . |
|
Give me a date and time and I' ll help you picture my frame of mind |
|
13 I was accustomed to the playground in the palm of my hand |
|
Kicks were custom |
|
There was no law of the land for the ladies man |
|
But flip the script |
|
You' re a product of a single mother' s insecurities |
|
Moulded by her fears |
|
That facade you brave, is fake |
|
Gassed up and |
|
I see past your shell. |
|
Son |
|
You were born to change the world, |
|
But you' re hiding yourself behind the mask the typical class clown. |
|
Loud mouth, |
|
Picky hair |
|
Hard to hold down |
|
Cos Daddy wasn' t there |
|
Excuse after excuse |
|
Mum at work by time I woke for school, ironic she never saw her sun-rise |
|
Backpack on my back, note on the table |
|
I' ll be home by 9 |
|
And up late she would stay |
|
To make sure that we saw eye to eye |
|
Cross on my pendant still a million miles from heaven |
|
14 I survived a beating on a 97 |
|
Mistaken identity |
|
Could' ve easily been me |
|
on the News at 7 |
|
And |
|
By 16 I started Losing friends I considered family |
|
Fell for a girl that couldn' t stand with me |
|
Till I was in too deep, said f it all |
|
I mean I just couldn' t shake trouble |
|
In the Grange blocks with Courvos' bottles |
|
Feds circling, its hot boy, you don' t shuffle |
|
On my own I learnt the difference between familiarity and family |
|
And that right there was my amnesty |
|
I looked up to older niggas that grew tired |
|
But none of them said I can grow be an older admired |
|
None of them said my passion can sink ships |
|
When you just channel that fire |
|
I' ve always been motivated but at 17 I found some drive |
|
Cos if life offers you a new beginning, you take it and leap |
|
Make molehills out of mountain peaks |
|
Or get dirt thrown on you before you' re 6 feet deep |
|
My hands are weak. |
|
My hands are weak |
|
Heavy heart |
|
All that fire. . . |
|
My hands are weak |
|
All that rage |
|
Slowly falls. . |
|
18 in the college atrium I was daydreaming |
|
Chris, Kamaal and Akeem |
|
Said my poems gave em a new feeling |
|
And I found strength exposing my own weaknesses |
|
Side by side with my old demons - no choice but to overcome |
|
My many directions became one |
|
Live while you' re young |
|
But mould the man that you' d become |
|
I admittedly weren' t ready for the world yet |
|
Student loan weren' t enough, I can tell you bout debt |
|
Tell you bout pressure |
|
In my uni room strapping stanzas for depression |
|
The fact I' m even standing is a blessing |
|
I said I could' ve been mourned on the News at 7. |
|
Before 19, I had performed on the news at 7 |
|
I' ve had to hold my own to grow |
|
No |
|
I don' t boast - it' s the truth |
|
Sink or Swim? I had to choose |
|
At 21 with a 2: 1 |
|
21 with a pen doing 32' s just to get free |
|
21 on a good run |
|
Friends I had at 12 on the school run or shoot guns |
|
I do this for Mum |
|
But Mum doesn' t think this can build home |
|
Truth or no, |
|
I dunno |
|
All I know is this is the warm up |
|
Or the home stretch |
|
Christmas 15 shelving New Look genes |
|
By 2017, I was on every shop floor, every screen as compliments of the season |
|
Repeated it Summer 18 |
|
You' ve either heard or you' ve seen |
|
And if you' ve ever heard my story, |
|
I hope stand for me |
|
And If you don' t. . . sit down with me |
|
Speak with me |
|
Losing friends is no longer a trend I wish to continue |
|
I' m sorry that I' m still so sinful |
|
But I don' t judge a man before I know what he' s been through |
|
I left certain things behind to make sure I can handle my business right |
|
They say my future' s bright, |
|
I was raised in the darkness but it' s about time I that I come for my shine and took a step. . |
|
. . into the light |
|
Out from the shade |
|
Time moves on |
|
Memories fade |
|
My hands are weak |
|
Heavy heart |
|
All that fire. . . |
|
My hands are weak |
|
All that rage |
|
Slowly falls. . |