Jeru The Damaja - Presha

 (versiyon 1)
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Intro:



This goes out to all my young brothers and sisters

Hold ya head, things ain't always what they seem





I'm about to give you a dose of reality

Real deal







{Jeru The Damaja





Nowaways, records are played and superstars are made





Still mothers in the ghetto, rent dont get payed

As a result, bullets are sprayed and their sons are laid



It's no myth, in ghetto life, if you don't fight you fade



Surviving in the streets, not a task for ordinary men



Growing up in the hood, young black and supahuman



Caught up in the game of blocks and cops run your block





Intercourse with witches and hunted by warlocks

For props, boos-hoot pop, another brother drops



He barely knew his pops, 



now his little seed will barely know his pops

Tunnel vision like a cyclops





I give you x-ray vision with these supahuman eyedrops



My niggas in the ghetto, give it everything you got



'cause until we reach the top, can't stop and won't stop







Chorus 2X:





Can you feel?

The presha, the the the presha



Hand over



The presha, the the the presha







{Jeru The Damaja



Journalists write articles 'cause they can't write rhymes



Ever since I was a youth I dealt in crime



Now I'm trying to reach the youth, to preserve what's left



There's a fork in the road, choose life or death



There's too much stress, too many bullets for your vest



Temptress, suck ya best, exotic strains of syphillis



The rest, rest in the Earth, only the best progress



It's you who think I see commercial success

Warning, this shit is real, this is not a test





And what I express worth more than a Lexus



Serve it like baby food, still hard to digest



Long ass niggas is mental slaves, I gotta protest







Chorus 2X







{Jeru The Damaja



Baby in the crib, and dad got no loot for food



So he do what he got to do

Keep it real, I don't playa hate ya





God my divine nature, 



sent at this time to stabilize the structure

We should all live like wise kings, 







now sing praise to the gutter



The blazed double X, concelead like a box cutter

Brothers should be teaching, not murdering one another



Word, to the mother land, kill the other man



Lord of the concrete jungle, and Tarzan was a black man



Swingin on vines vibin, been balancin the eco system



And since there's no more niggas in the ghetto, here I am





Chorus 4X





(you got to deal with*instead of hand over)







Meanwhile, back at Supahuman Klik Headquarters...

														   

														   











		
			



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