Fall of T.R.O.Y. - B. Dolan

P.O.S.:

As I perspire through my pigment

Fire a cigarette, sire some newness

Dire corners stay dim lit

Dim wits stickin to rugers

Slim kids sticking to coolness

Brollic youth’ll get ruthless

Foolish will end up toothless

I slide through

Die when I’m lied to

(lie back)

Lay down, been dead, no salutes

No crowns, right?

They yellin 'hurry up and buy

Open your mouth and shut your eyes'

And no one even acts surprised no more…

Knowmore.org

So sore no pores enough to support

What i need to flush

All we need is a rush

All we need is a dutch

All we need is some weed (wrong)

All we need is a push

All we need is a boost

Who can’t handle the truth?

All I need is these big black motherfuckin boots

Who are you?

(On the move… on the move… Get a grip… Get a move on…)

Cadence Weapon:

Young man is a gargoyle, get thrown off the building

And for a while, they all used to talk about building

But then the star, he got fired from the building

Then he went from song billings to bomb building

I made my drop

Cause you really used to get it, how you’d push it to the limit and

The kids vibe with it

But you stopped

Paralysis averages made on the charts have waned in the days

Since you stopped

Like a Wilson brother, you would fill song covers in the bin

'Til you get dropped

The well is dry, head is high for once until you drop

But you had nobody tell you, «buddy, you should stop»

Cautionary tale, auctions, every sale, so they can shop

Your remains still remain even when you’re in a box

Wait to see him at wax museums for photo ops

No mas, no more, you were a whore for the props

The lock’s not off, it’s still on, you sing songs, but the light in

Your mind’s turned off

Deferred trust, rust never sleeps, why won’t you just move off?

(On the move… on the move… Get a grip… Get a move on…)

B. Dolan:

Don’t we love the static?

Fall back reset default automatic

Pause that

Borders intact, cemented, all stagnant

Struck dumb, stuck to the floor

Raw arrogance

Collectible kicks, the broad spectrum is sick

We need more medicine

Less cough suppressant

Settled on a coffin fetish

And worship of solid objects

It’s good to be hard but it’s harder to be honest

It’s nice to be smart but can you move an audience

Draw a crowd or paint a picture?

The temple sinks under the weight of scripture

The false idols and fake honors

I admit I lost faith when they chained us to the monument;

Saw the waves raise to erase our accomplishment

We’re not healthy, we’re just heavy

You’re not a Souljah Boy you’re a mercenary

In a cryogenic sleep

Fighting windmills, locked up in a deep freeze

Froze in a still pose and sold to the museum

Acquired some new pieces but

You don’t need 'em

Hand over the jewels

This is a robbery

Nobody moves