What Happened To The Butterflies
Produced by El Nigris for Waterhole Productions
(PoloMindstein- Verse 1)
Niggas wanna be killas, and drug dealers,
blood spillers, cap peelers, leave you bewildered,
unemployed grave diggers, do not exist,
I'm running for the future's terror, pumping my fists.
No fear fills the inner gut, too much nuts made `em nuts,
bucking shots for what? Nothing much,
disgusted, must've hit a million darkies,
through the lynching with the whips rippin, and I aint hardly
trying to find the tunnels end with my eyes closed,
I know the fury that's inside may misguide though.
What ever happened to the ones that used to fly,
I search upon the sky, live or die, for an answer
and find to many lost their minds, with the butterflies,
competing for the wrong thing, nothing inside.
I'm falling into suicide, riding on shaky grounds,
waiting for the echo of the well to come back around.
Heart of a cave, paves the road to a grave,
look into the mind of a slave.
Too many gave their lives as a sacrifice, for this to be,
no intensity mentalities increasing as we speak.
(PoloMindstein- Verse 2)
The darkside has surfaced, we live in it,
getting darker by the minute, watch your wig,
it's trivial to some, but a gun kills,
a life vacates a body, like a kite escapes a kid.
I never understood the rage of radicals,
irrational sabbaticals, explaining the temper flow.
I know, that times get rough, and it aint enough,
to complain, they don't change,
the terror starts to slither through my teeth and my eyes squint
at the sight of opposition, but I listen.
Make a judgement based on evidence, cause non-sense
is the route that put the rest inside of innocence.
Too many scared of being scared, avoiding butter(flies),
but a brother can not progress without stress,
the simple things in life are the backbone to complications,
further down the road that we face, so remember,
to put the truth aside to make it easier can kill you,
squash it as it shows up, and it won't roll.
Take them as they come, win each battle like a bomb,
more than snakes are made to rattle, but I ask can you handle the Butterflies.
(PoloMindstein- Verse 3)
Wonder years, will keep you wondering like Kevin,
so it appears, think back to when I was eleven,
thought I was grown, because some things I understood,
but now I know, that I was just a little hood,
not doing wrong, only runnin with the big boys,
and making noise, a little property destroyed,
but over time, I found that pieces could be fixed,
though doing crimes, breaks bones, not sticks,
some people lie, some people cheat, some people steal,
some people die, some people think they're born to kill,
so who am I, I'm like the apple on the tree,
about to fall, knowing that when I hit the leaves,
I gotta do, before the days are old and done,
my destiny, this means I must choose one,
to be the boss, I know I gotta pay the cost,
so I work hard, to keep the time from getting lost,
or losing ground, I hear the thundering sound,
it's in my chest, I feel the pounds, the pound of the Butterflies