No Fighting Songtext

Gruvis Malt

von Mehr Songtexte

No Fighting Songtext
The infestation of our population patrons dealing mostly

in fakin' front the frontlines with fronted reputations, it

would be verbal masturbation except you get off with a

large part of the nation is it compensation for lack of

personality or frustration, you are not what you like to be
in this reality, you need some creativity or some

vocabularity maybe try university to diversify your

diversity stop actively pursuing this acting activity you

see even master actors lack the authenticity. You cannot

bust into a settlement by storm honking the horns you

stole from those who came before your swim to shore it's

not a war of course but your riding on our prized horse

you've tapped from our water source lifted from our stores

and reservoirs of sorts. I can't ignore in fact I'm sore

music is not a whore so do not borrow it's source and
decode it like Morse, cause' you endorse forced rhymes

and this time we closed the doors sorry suckas you can't

suck us. If you're not a worm don't get bit and if you're

not a fish please don't bite it.



CHORUS



There are way too many citizens neglecting lyrical content

cash spent on Clark Kents boasting Superman descent with

dissonant intent no dissenters or repentance keeps the

standard subterranean so the dense can hop the fence and

play intense/in tents/ - in tense past winning Jeopardy at

three in the morning, mourning the loss of genius as my eyes

open, the lack of sleep sucker-punched me left me three black

eyes, trying to figure out how people build a wall of truth by

telling lies - we dropped disguises, deciding our angles

shouldn't be hiding, and everybody shouts "TRY

REWRITING"

but I'm not buying it, I'm selling facts not

fiction, if you need to borrow diction go to the library and l

ook it up under the section labeled "whack," before airplay,

this genre's played out like falling in love with Bjork , I'm

stranded in the Diesland while my brain is in New York



well I'll be diggin' on some futurock and cuttin' pictures out

of magazines 'til the light under the door goes from black to

grayish green



I don't claim to be an "MC" just an "me"

"d-i-a" cut me up and I'm bleeding beat poetry in ten years I'll

look back and see if martyrdom was financially beneficial



I remember you screaming and biting the heads off mannequins

that don't budge but bought a t-shirt with your name on it, but

they bought it, that's money in your pocket - I know but do I

need it? - You got an addiction what do you do with it?! -

(feed it)



those who mass market you will duplicate your

greatness while you're busy using superlatives - take away

your natural flavor and add preservatives, reserving the right

because you chose to serve them blindly - they took your style,

ideas, life and said "Thank you kindly, (I own you)"



music as a whole has been diluted



your whole intent convoluted



after the planet has been flooded with your fodder, your

formula now reads "simply add water."



CHORUS