В колонках играет - 2pac-Ghetto GospelДенек-из разряда не в рот ебаться! Умудрился сегодня на алгебре получить 2, казалось бы-всё, аут, придумай хуже...Придумалось-домашнее задание по химии раздали-3 балла (по 12-бальной системе)...Теперь настроение на упадке...А после уроков оставался судить футбольный матч, удалил игрока, ко мне подоршел наш "уважаемый" министр спорта и отменил удаление от фонаря...Теперь вот пока писал в колонках играет 2pac-Ghetto Gospels...Нашел в инете слова песни,перевел в уме их-задумался и понял что по сравнению с тем как хреново бывает людям, мне еще нормально живеться. А если кому интересна пища для ума-выкладываю слова.
Uhh,
Hit them with a lil' ghetto gospel
Those who wish to follow me (My ghetto gospel)
I welcome with my hands
And the red sun sinks at last into the hills of gold
And peace to this young warrior without the sound of guns
If I could recollect before my hood dayz
I'd sit and reminisce, nigga and bliss on the good dayz
I stop and stare at the younger, my heart goes to'em
They tested, it was stressed that they under
In our days, things changed
Everyone's ashamed to the youth cuz the truth looks strange
And for me it's reversed, we left them a world that's cursed, and it hurts
Cuz any day they'll push the button
And y'all condemned like Malcolm x and Bobby Hunton, died for nothin
Don't them let me get teary, the world looks dreary
But when you wipe your eyes, see it clearly
There's no need for you to fear me
If you take the time to hear me, maybe you can learn to cheer me
It ain't about black or white, cuz we're human
I hope we see the light before its ruined
My ghetto gospel
Those who wish to follow me (My ghetto gospel)
I welcome with my hands
And the red sun sinks at last into the hills of gold
And peace to this young warrior without the sound of guns
Tell me do you see that old lady aint it sad
Living out a bag, but she's glad for the little things she has
And over there there's a lady, crack got her crazy
Guess she's given birth to a baby
I don't trip and let it fade me, from outta the frying pan
We jump into another form of slavery
Even now I keep discouraged
Wonder if they take it all back while I still keep the courage
I refuse to be a role model
I set goals, take control, drink out my own bottle
I make mistakes, I learn from everyone
And when its said and done
I bet this Brotha be a better one
If I'm upset, you don't stress
Never forget, that God hasn't finished with me yet
I feel his hand on my brain
When I write rhymes, I go blind, and let the lord do his thang
But am I less holy
Cuz I choose to puff a blunt and drink a beer with my homies
Before we find world peace
We gotta find peace in that war on the streets
My ghetto gospel
Those who wish to follow me (My ghetto gospel)
I welcome with my hands
And the red sun sinks at last into the hills of gold
And peace to this young warrior without the sound of guns
Lord can you hear me speak
To pay the price of being hell bound
