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Bats (prod​.​SANGNOIR)

from H​.​T. by Gabe 'Nandez

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lyrics

What's the use in
Making moves that reduce 'em
Missed the clues now the clues shift
Laying in the tomb tomb too thick
Clear as the days fade away
Night strike at your eye sight till your blind like mice in the twilight phase
My life made in design i pave
How you define what you couldn't find in the haze
Why, i, stumble upon omens at day
Folding the corners that's holding the page

How you ever get past what you living?
Anytime you on task anytime you fall back if they put you on blast could you feel it?
Instability inclined
No i mean literally be slipping every time
Figure many shapes take form in the dark
Under one kind of vapour that form in the talk that
That speak that, snap dreams that, leave a motherfucker trapped where he sleep at
Ain't nobody could have actually seen that
Which is remember as unseen it would seem that
It's so difficult, to break through the mould of an institute
Ive been introverted, out thunk the system
With much persistence i fuck the system

From the cortex to the chest then out the mouth into the beat
Through the time warp this rhyme talk the only sidewalk that's keeping 'em off of the street
How you break through, trynna pay your dues that's wasn't payed to
I take it that fate make what the fate do and fate never loose it couldn't cause it choose what it's all about

Making the cut like you really did
I'm in your guts like you getting sick
Broken open crushed what you couldn't grip
Pour benny in the cup more plenty get me fucked up, shut the lid
I begin to ride out as soon as i find that carriage
In this finite marriage, in between lines that define how i met 'em
Confined by pleasure, make you climb high into heavens
Scum of the earth they can't slide in the resin
See me get by, 3 hundred and six five days at a time

How the fuck you want truth when you run under the roof when you hear it?
And everybody want youth, nobody getting used to losing the only proof that was written
Blood put the sweat in the tears
Thugs put the slugs in your neck cause you here
Bigger nigga tell the little niggas get dough
Little niggas killing bigger niggas get pro
Couldn't get grown in a zone so small
So you flip this dope till the zone all yours
Cause the bricks hit home like a doorbell do
They're clocking your property with the Orwell tools
But it's cool, I don't need a mule
Fuck 40 acres I don't even need to choose
In between the womb and the west of the world
I'm an extraterrestrial meshed in the twirl

Real niggas ain't smart, nigga, not at all
Real nigga don't think fake nigga like art real nigga just ball
Some people may crawl dumb people stay stalled them people get gone
Me i got balls and my word is my law yo that's word to the gods

credits

from H​.​T., released December 5, 2014

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Gabe 'Nandez New York, New York

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