This is one of my favorite songs. https://fnfgo.io
Ayo
Queens get the money niggas still screaming, paper chasing
But presidential candidates is planning wars with other nations, over steak with masons
Pregnant teens give birth to intelligent gangsters they daddies faceless
Play this, by ya stomach, let my words massage it and rub it
I'll be his daddy if there's nobody there to love it
Tell him his name Nasir, tell him how he got here
Momma was just having fun with someone above her years
Niggas is still hating
Talking that Nas done fell off with rhyming, he rather floss with diamonds
They pray please God, let him spit that uzi and the army lining
That shorty doowop rolling oo-whops in the park recycling
Take 27 emcees, put them in a line and they out of alignment
My assignments since he said retirement
Hiding behind 8 mile and The Chronic
Get's rich but dies rhyming, this is high science
Now add twenty three more for Queens to be more, I'm over they heads
Like a bulimic on a sea-saw
Now that's 50 porch monkeys ate up at the same time
Nasty Nas that
Y'all gonna bow homes, this is Dow Jones
80 cal chrome, needed time alone to zone
The mack left his iPhone and his nine at home
My queen used her milkshake to bring ya'll to my slaughterhouses
I do this for the group home kids and boarding houses
This that nigga shit that's on the album
For them niggas inside the chalk lining, 40 houses
Bring back Arsenio
Hip hop was aborted, so Nas breathes life back into the embryo
Let us make man in our image, spit it
I'm Huey P. and Louie V. at the eulogy throwing Molotovs for Emmett
You ain't as hot as I is
All of these false prophets is not messiahs
You don't know how high the sky is
The square mileage of earth or what pi is
I'm the shaky hand that touched George Foreman in Zaire
The same hand that punched down devils that brought down the towers
Queens get the money niggas still screaming, paper chasing
But presidential candidates is planning wars with other nations, over steak with masons
Pregnant teens give birth to intelligent gangsters they daddies faceless
Play this, by ya stomach, let my words massage it and rub it
I'll be his daddy if there's nobody there to love it
Tell him his name Nasir, tell him how he got here
Momma was just having fun with someone above her years
Niggas is still hating
Talking that Nas done fell off with rhyming, he rather floss with diamonds
They pray please God, let him spit that uzi and the army lining
That shorty doowop rolling oo-whops in the park recycling
Take 27 emcees, put them in a line and they out of alignment
My assignments since he said retirement
Hiding behind 8 mile and The Chronic
Get's rich but dies rhyming, this is high science
Now add twenty three more for Queens to be more, I'm over they heads
Like a bulimic on a sea-saw
Now that's 50 porch monkeys ate up at the same time
Nasty Nas that
Y'all gonna bow homes, this is Dow Jones
80 cal chrome, needed time alone to zone
The mack left his iPhone and his nine at home
My queen used her milkshake to bring ya'll to my slaughterhouses
I do this for the group home kids and boarding houses
This that nigga shit that's on the album
For them niggas inside the chalk lining, 40 houses
Bring back Arsenio
Hip hop was aborted, so Nas breathes life back into the embryo
Let us make man in our image, spit it
I'm Huey P. and Louie V. at the eulogy throwing Molotovs for Emmett
You ain't as hot as I is
All of these false prophets is not messiahs
You don't know how high the sky is
The square mileage of earth or what pi is
I'm the shaky hand that touched George Foreman in Zaire
The same hand that punched down devils that brought down the towers
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This song was originally written by a guy called Peter Gutteridge. He was one of the founders of the "Dunedin Sound" a musical scene in the south of New Zealand in the early 80s. From there it was covered by "The Clean" one of the early bands of that scene (he had originally been a member of in it's early days, writing a couple of their best early songs). The Dunedin sound, and the Clean became popular on american college radio in the mid to late 80s. I guess Yo La Tengo heard that version.
Great version of a great song,
Punchline
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There aren’t many things that’ll hurt more than giving love a chance against your better judgement only to have your heart crushed yet again. Ed Sheeran tells such a story on “Page.” On this track, he is devastated to have lost his lover and even more saddened by the feeling that he may never move on from this.
Plastic Bag
Ed Sheeran
Ed Sheeran
“Plastic Bag” is a song about searching for an escape from personal problems and hoping to find it in the lively atmosphere of a Saturday night party. Ed Sheeran tells the story of his friend and the myriad of troubles he is going through. Unable to find any solutions, this friend seeks a last resort in a party and the vanity that comes with it.
“I overthink and have trouble sleepin’ / All purpose gone and don’t have a reason / And there’s no doctor to stop this bleedin’ / So I left home and jumped in the deep end,” Ed Sheeran sings in verse one. He continues by adding that this person is feeling the weight of having disappointed his father and doesn’t have any friends to rely on in this difficult moment. In the second verse, Ed sings about the role of grief in his friend’s plight and his dwindling faith in prayer. “Saturday night is givin’ me a reason to rely on the strobe lights / The lifeline of a promise in a shot glass, and I’ll take that / If you’re givin’ out love from a plastic bag,” Ed sings on the chorus, as his friend turns to new vices in hopes of feeling better.
Such a sick intro track, Nas is the best rapper alive.