PHZ-Sicks - The Constant

rate me

[Verse 1: PHZ-Sicks]

The smell of pissy hallways shouldn’t feel like home

Shouldn’t be the norm of images of guns pointed to my dome

Can I walk down the streets without niggas barking at me? (Woof)

Can I walk down the streets without cops grabbing at me?

Pissed, with my hand on my dick

Even dressed collegiate, I still get stopped and frisked

Ain’t this a bitch? From NY to Chicago

The bullets sing in different octaves but they still ring hollow

Continued constant sorrows, unrealized gone tomorrows

In the Cleveland Show, you might not make it to the age of Rallo

They say bullet doesn’t have a name

First and middle Win 9 millimeter, Luger was his last name

How many bullets in Sandy Hook does it take?

To change a young black or brown kid in DC’s fate

It was a tragedy, not saying that I told you so

But if we were, real about these guns laws could’ve avoided this some time ago


[Hook: PHZ-Sicks]

I’m singing my Country, 'Tis of Thee

But they telling me to get down on my knees

I say we need a better education system

They tell me that we need to build more prison

Land of the Free, home of the Brave

But it’s the home of the paid, land built by the slaves

If you live by the gun, you die by the same thing

And you wonder why shit never change

It’s the constant

[Verse 2: PHZ-Sicks]

Now pray tell the details of a black male and cracks sales

Although we mean well it does make our art sale

Whether it’s gangster, whether it’s conscious

We use to that black hell to launch our rocket

Onto the Billboard, media calls us lucky

At least on Thanksgiving, we handing out turkeys

Our communities are still fucked up but at least we lucked up

Said your city in our songs, now least you feel pumped up

Parties in Hamptons, rested in my mansion

Fucking white bitches on a bed made of lambskin

Jogging in the park, got stop by random

Cops asking me, which house I ran from

My ID with an address but still I get undressed

By a racist, where the fuck is the serve and the protect

They insisted I resisted, arm twisted, thought I left that

Back in the hood but my skin stills remains black


[Verse 3: Lyriciss]

They say it never change, I gotta agree with it

Spreading death with no clear sender, BCC'in it

Maryland the home, I'm speaking for PG with this

Next to the District, the dealers keep the D in it

Never learned to pull out unless they talking weaponry

One look’ll say it all like they mastered telepathy

Sheesh! My nigga, get you a conscience

Homicide far from normal, but trust me, it's constant

Boston dealing with bombings, I'd rather disarm them

Show my people the good life like Yeezy did Common

Right? But maybe I'm just dreaming too big

Maybe my message missing the picture like avi's and sigs

Life, dramatic as it is, they ain't give us a script

God gave me a plan and a voice and he told me to rip

That's what it is, so I'm going over these beats

And pray my bars can play the arms to get you all in my reach to end the constant


Thanks to PHZ-Sicks for correcting these lyrics

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