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lirik lagu twisted messages – s-ra

[verse 1]
some say i overdo it, some say i’ll make it if i brew it
well if i screw it, then i’ll take it as if i blew it
i’m penning these in lieu, but it’s not coo’ if i spew it
so my voice is f-cked, whoo, but i’m not tryna go chew it
still making people think i’m a wannabe when i retort my lines
can’t spit lines without robbery cause pleasure’s short of my time
people don’t study me, it ain’t rocketry, but i spit, is it my prime
still getting it audibly, but i’m listening and hitting my rhymes
taking my sign to ignite the stage but woops, there goes my chime
listen to all these rappers singing about money and weed
salivating at the thought of women, l-st and their seed
thoughtless they talk about fly rims and zucchini, i plead
i’m talking about all those “gangsta” cr-ppers, yeah start a beef
i’ll f-ck you up in a rhyme, can’t freestyle but i still laugh at chief keef
who said you were dapper? you’re half a f-cking brain, to be brief
all the -ssh0l-s who ever lived in k-town or sh-t on 41st street
you’re no better than the psycho fan who drowned for skeet
i’m not in the news but i managed to get accused one more
i guess i drank booze times three, times four, oh f-ck it’s a score
“what does it say about whose? i wanna know more about the wh0r-”
delivering subliminal messages, who knows, you could play this backwards?
you think i’m illuminati, worship a cresent, or give my facebook p-ssword?
jokes on you, adolescent, i don’t think you could write it fluently onwards
i’m getting more pie than you, unfortunately anything times zero, well you know
i’ve got a reputation for knock madness and a premonition for inevitable disaster
cheating coward, see that, hottie? that’s how you take love to open pasture

[hook]
i spread these twisted messages (2x whole hook)
it’s about rappers spreading the love
i spread these twisted messages
happiness, angels, and god above
i spread these twisted messages
we write what we got, we’ve had enough

[verse 2]
i’ve had some terrible thoughts, mind’s really thought it
take a nine and a glock and pull ’em to pop it
shout out to sik kid, i like the way he jots it
he speaks the truth and there’s no doubt about it
that’s depression, but i’m lost and still caught in it
pierce the veil, that ain’t his band but he brought it
and he avoids their word, knows if he sought it
he’d be dead in an hour, or so, he’s big shotted
on limp water, blood is thicker, they spotted
so they took him to the dumps to blot it
because his ship sailed, a nation gone missing
found his body
with a bottle gone fishing
no prime suspects, but now they’re new slaves, they’re wack
swimming with the fishies, pockets full of nickel backs
he’s moving at snail’s pace, but he’s blind to h-ll
he knows two dialects: english and demon braille
so when he sold out, the game went stale
he’s still finding his ident-ty, not as fresh as green kale
is he dope, well that’s objective to what’ll they say
this life can get sad, but i’ve always dreamed of the future
it’s raw if i can get a mixtape, even better if for a producer
but i want a name, and twisted messages are best on computer
because if he’s wack then he’s still six-shape, and giving elders a suture
he’s no rap god but he’s blasting these homeruns like a-rod, junior
he lives my angry adolescence divided, the encore of the hoosier
and others will smile and say his best works were his first, hah, amateur humor

[pre-hook]
i feel like i’m here for a purpose, here to save rap
like em and hop and jay i guess i am a rapping chap
cause i yap then i trap em with my lyric sandtraps
and i guess to lay there’s history for me to cross the gap
what’s it worth to be a gem in a business where i get slapped?
ah f-ck it, twisted and turned, listed and learned, hah

[verse 3]
now to clarify i never meant to ramble in spite, never did that just to f-ck up
i only did what i could preamble, never quite realizing why i mucked up
the meanings could be bent, but when i pen, it’s out of god given right
here’s to thinking, two hands i was lent, a d-ck and skin that’s pale white
but otherwise a king of vent, every f-cking rap spent about my fake–ss plight
because nothing’s too hard to be irreversible, and i take back my sight
i’m staring into h-ll because time doesn’t exist, only thought of in the slight
except by f-cking teenagers who relent against school, the system and light
i don’t see any hope in the future, nothing i haven’t underwent
so f-ck the world, i’ve got a baby boy and his name’s kent
i could probably take this verse farther, but i’m learning from the ropes
giving it a serious feel, but i’m no farmer, or earning from my hopes
so one shot i’m given, but i’m no knight in shining armor, just cannot cope
so sit back, sing along and jam to my trope, but look at sam adams, the king arthur of underground mopes

-chuckle-

- s ra

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