BLACK MOON - Confusion lyrics

rate me

[Chorus x2: Buckshot]

It's just a day with another night

Another pray for another life

Another wrong with another right

Strong when I'm on this mic

Cuz it's always, a lot of confusion

[Buckshot]

Industry rule number 10 thousand and 80

Record company niggaz are shady, baby

Definetly, never maybe, or have to be

A pain in the ass, like 'fuck you, pay me'

Crazy, picture me slippin', like a broke transmition

I got both positions, I own both the missions

I wrote poems for commissions

I'm the leader for the squad, when the Gods

In a hard perdicament, like

Got a hot group, but need they contracts right

Or got jerked for your publishing last fight

Now you wanna act tight, let me give you advice

It don't matter if you that nice

Cuz the bottom line is the kind of mind, not the kind to rhyme

Sign, and sealed, delivered, delivered and signed

Right now, I know you wanna get yours

I'm out my prime, so I got to get mine before I'm out my mind

[Chorus x2]

[Buckshot]

Let's keep it real, y'all niggaz know the deal

Rap on your LP's and don't own 'em still

Don't own 'em, chill, don't it feel

Foul, don't own your LP, but you own your bills, now

Everybody got a story to tell, or glory to sale

But alotta niggaz bore me to hell

That's why the number one question

Where's Buck? Get the number one answer

Here, let's hear it up, listen up

Yeah, I'm back with the hounds, ridin' round

Cuz the hill look deep when you slidin' down, how that sound?

I'm from the Crown, plus parts unknown

Everybody who met me, took a part of me, home

Cuz I be fool droppin', never was with crew hoppin'

It's the true topic, that'll have y'all fools watchin'

Dudes stoppin', in the middle of their tracks, like wait a minute

Whose that, that's Buck, what the fuck?

[Chorus x2]

[Buckshot]

From ya, streets to the industry, friend or enemy

In the end it'll be, who got it, who don't, who want it, let's see

Niggaz say that underground shit

Like they don't want chips, yeah right, they don't want chips?

Let's get this straight, underground of '93 and '94

Ain't the underground of '98, I see it's too late

For y'all to relate, so fuck it

I left my show in the quarter to eight, a quarter to eight

And y'all can talk about me and them streets

Ain't shit to hide about BDI, I be in them streets

Back on my grind, this week, spread your little rumors

I'ma shut up, and this nine gon' speak

All y'all internet freaks and click-on thugs

On my web, get off my dick, you get no love

This ain't face, but I faith in the snub

After failin' with my OJ glove, show 'nuff, cuz

[Chorus x2]