Chief Kamachi - Edge lyrics

rate me

Yo, the first grandson of Phillip Lee

Grew up on the Ave, where they was dealing D

Searching for my moms, oh where could Camilla be?

My Uncle Upstate, hope they set my killa free

Days is dreary, little swollen eyes stay teary

Grandmoms died on my birthday, speak of a dearly

Until this day, feel like a warm embrace they near me

And got me, when this young nigga can't think clearly

Inside me, had to be strong from the start

Day-by-day but everybody around me falling apart

Alone in the dark, wanna put the chrome to my heart

With the heavenly weed that I know the angels spark

These the things that influenced my behavior

Go to Church; probably put a shell in the Savior

Worship for what!? !

Niggas ain't working enough

Was praying to pay my way but I judge for a book

Tryna stroll but it seems the world was hurting my strut

Don't wanna have to resort to drastic measures

I'll kill for a bird with fantastic feathers

If I don't get paid off this voice, these classic treasures

I'm on the edge nigga, like I was born on the ledge

Cause I said "Please" that don't mean to push me to the edge

Hard to be righteous but easy to put one in ya head

I'm from the slums in Congo, live from this dunya

Yo, I live them Section-8 Housing tales

Depressed, chain-smoked over 2, 000 L's

Hungry miles, with little vials to sell

Keep my bear warm in Philly's crowded jail

Some ain't coming home or even browsing bells

Suicidal, whether we be doused in hell

It's strapped in special war, in the middle of blue walls

Where they keep human vegetables stored

Some genius with incredible scores

But than the kitchen crack come send 'em to their ghetto medical store

They go crazy, or smoke that Bolivian pure

Skies is hazy, is these days we living in war

And I wrote this A&R, the infirmary floor

From my brothers became broke like they learned to be poor

On the edge nigga

Man, what kind of world is this?

Man, the faggots have stolen the fucking rainbow, man

Maybe I'm crazy, never occurred my state blurred from the tropical herb

Messing with my optical nerves with the doctors observed

Is the young hustler disturbed, got the psycho in me

I can see it in my face, immediately

I can walk the line of evil, obediently

It's getting dim, and I can see my light leaving me

Must be the dark spirits and they thievery

High on the stoop, wild as Congo

Visualize paint, elephant and army suits

Don't be drinking orange juice

In the white jacket, can't get my arms loose

Even the though the nurses was Indians teaching me Kama Sutra

Still tryna find the cooch on mama goose, sinning

Looking for the zone off in the Ritilin

Cause I'm tripping, screaming "Fuck the police"

In the hospital catching on the edge, nigga