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lirik lagu sweetlick – tr3 taylor

revolutionary

it’s good or bad what road you pick
it’s a concrete jungle you gotta be fit
jogging sight for the blind and end the sick
i’m on the road to success i gotta take a l!ck
i’m black so black check just check the black history
lift myself from the gutter it’s no mystery
it’s just the first page of my documentary
excuse me while i make my entry
the suffering is on and the youth them crying
homeless people in the streets are dying
helpless momma with the infant sighing
but we they got to keep on trying
i lift hands to ya
when i risе this mourn
real revolutionary keep on striving
been a long time coming but wе still surviving
africans we keep on rising

yeah spent so many years of my mind stuck in a prison
on how to raise man it’ll take more than a village
my thoughts my skin black
my tint and rims black
my shirt and timberland black
my hair n*gga i’m black
i’m a product of the fair fax eastern shore and the proctors
field workers still in service got work from sharecroppers
now we own hundreds of acres his cousins married to doctors
a side hustle in music his brothers are business partners
let’s burn us some sage black
pop culture today’s black
our minimum wage black
these words n*ggas in fact
is something deeper than poetry
latin root mix with portuguese
food stamps the dollar tree gave us toiletries
history books lied have to ya this go to show
that i’m just another statistics to the nation i know
know ten percent of my n*ggas wanna run in your home
while two thirds are in debt and just applied for a loan
the suffering is on and the youth them crying
homeless people in the streets are dying
helpless momma with the infant sighing
but we they got to keep on trying
i lift hands to ya
when i rise this mourn
real revolutionary keep on striving
been a long time coming but we still surviving
africans we keep on rising

spent so many years of me still searching for answers
and mother f*ck the news when the truth behind the camera
the funeral homes black
from pagers our phones black
our neighbors and homes black
the eighties pandemic crack
our cities got gentrified as they tripled price on the lease
our homes were getting raided as profit rinsed down the sink
i’m more passport minded united as refugees
might even move out to canada where health cares free
false freedom
false reason
propaganda of hope
my lunch time was milk cartons carrots and sloppy joe
and when we fly out to africa cop a glass for a toast
might meditate in savannah to find spiritual growth
white lies white collar
more money more problems
more taxes man quit
new toilet same sh*t
same informants wearing wires
new sheriff same pigs
court hearings took about year
who ya hanging with
the suffering is on and the youth them crying
homeless people in the streets are dying
helpless momma with the infant sighing
but we they got to keep on trying
i lift hands to ya
when i rise this mourn
real revolutionary keep on striving
been a long time coming but we still surviving
africans we keep on rising

sweet l!ck sweet l!ck
we just plotting on a million let’s go make a flip
sweet l!ck sweet l!ck
my cousin gave me hand me downs and they ain’t even fit
sweet l!ck sweet l!ck
i got family through the system peeping through a brick
sweet l!ck sweet l!ck
it’s free game i just wanted y’all to hear the sh*t

what else do you want from me
what else do you want from me
what else do you want from me
what else do you want from me

- tr3 taylor

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