Polite Ghost
#Robbin_BankxPG (Intro) Yeah. Word to the trap of the soul,ya feel me? They tried to put me on the guest list,but I built my own prison. (Verse 1) They handed me the blueprint to a square life,a white picket vice Said"Play it safe, stay in your lane, pay the price twice" So I sold my own voice for some corporate stock noise Locked my spirit in a cubicle,one of the good little boys Traded my hustle for a 401k cage Let my rage age into polite,manageable stage Followed the script,a passive protagonist, weak My authentic soul reachin'a diminishing peak, yeah. (Chorus) I was livin'on mute, a straight-up suit, a civilian Dullin'my blade to fit a peaceful pavilion A quiet creek,no thunder, no peak, just a meek little trickle My heart's engine reduced to a timid old tick-tock tickle I played the game by their handbook,their weak-ass decree And the only thing I ever caught was a version that wasn't me. (Yeah,check it) (Verse 2) My"yes sir" was quick, my backbone was slick with compromise Buried the fire in my eyes for some approved,sanctioned lies My swagger was a spreadsheet,my rhythm a commute Let the system execute,let 'em loot my inner attribute They gentrified my spirit,put up a "Be Nice" fence Traded my raw edge for some polite,thin defense I was a ghost in the machine,a shadow on the wall Afraid to stand tall,afraid to let the realest part ball. (Chorus) I was livin'on mute, a straight-up suit, a civilian Dullin'my blade to fit a peaceful pavilion A quiet creek,no thunder, no peak, just a meek little trickle My heart's engine reduced to a timid old tick-tock tickle I played the game by their handbook,their weak-ass decree And the only thing I ever caught was a version that wasn't me. (For real,for real) (Bridge) But hold up. Somethin'rattlin' the cage door. A primal, ignored roar. This ain't peace,this is bein' spiritually poor. They sold me weakness as a virtue,a comfortable lie To live a life that don't live,just a slow, quiet die. I paid for their approval with my own damn light. That's a sucka's game,fightin' the wrong fight. (Outro) So fuck that borrowed blueprint,I'm tearin' up the lease. Time for a hostile takeover,let the real self release. That quiet creek's'bout to flood the block, break the levy and the dam. The polite ghost is evicted,and the motherfuckin' G is who I am. (Yeah!) The meek façade is crumbled,turnin' back to dust and sand. I'm reppin'for the lost territory: my own goddamn land. (Ay!) The beat's mine now.The script's been burned. A different kind of lesson finally learned. Word.
You may also like
Leave a comment
#Robbin_BankxPG (Intro) Yeah. Word to the trap of the soul,ya feel me? They tried to put me on the guest list,but I built my own prison. (Verse 1) They handed me the blueprint to a square life,a white picket vice Said"Play it safe, stay in your lane, pay the price twice" So I sold my own voice for some corporate stock noise Locked my spirit in a cubicle,one of the good little boys Traded my hustle for a 401k cage Let my rage age into polite,manageable stage Followed the script,a passive protagonist, weak My authentic soul reachin'a diminishing peak, yeah. (Chorus) I was livin'on mute, a straight-up suit, a civilian Dullin'my blade to fit a peaceful pavilion A quiet creek,no thunder, no peak, just a meek little trickle My heart's engine reduced to a timid old tick-tock tickle I played the game by their handbook,their weak-ass decree And the only thing I ever caught was a version that wasn't me. (Yeah,check it) (Verse 2) My"yes sir" was quick, my backbone was slick with compromise Buried the fire in my eyes for some approved,sanctioned lies My swagger was a spreadsheet,my rhythm a commute Let the system execute,let 'em loot my inner attribute They gentrified my spirit,put up a "Be Nice" fence Traded my raw edge for some polite,thin defense I was a ghost in the machine,a shadow on the wall Afraid to stand tall,afraid to let the realest part ball. (Chorus) I was livin'on mute, a straight-up suit, a civilian Dullin'my blade to fit a peaceful pavilion A quiet creek,no thunder, no peak, just a meek little trickle My heart's engine reduced to a timid old tick-tock tickle I played the game by their handbook,their weak-ass decree And the only thing I ever caught was a version that wasn't me. (For real,for real) (Bridge) But hold up. Somethin'rattlin' the cage door. A primal, ignored roar. This ain't peace,this is bein' spiritually poor. They sold me weakness as a virtue,a comfortable lie To live a life that don't live,just a slow, quiet die. I paid for their approval with my own damn light. That's a sucka's game,fightin' the wrong fight. (Outro) So fuck that borrowed blueprint,I'm tearin' up the lease. Time for a hostile takeover,let the real self release. That quiet creek's'bout to flood the block, break the levy and the dam. The polite ghost is evicted,and the motherfuckin' G is who I am. (Yeah!) The meek façade is crumbled,turnin' back to dust and sand. I'm reppin'for the lost territory: my own goddamn land. (Ay!) The beat's mine now.The script's been burned. A different kind of lesson finally learned. Word.