Song: Loaded Hearts
Album: Lesser Restoration
Artist: Toussaint Morrison
Written by: Toussaint Morrison
Released: February 10, 2017
ref: https://open.spotify.com/album/3TEcNrBZyU7EZJuzkPBOcn
Chorus
Javelins flyin’ overhead,
overhead, overhead
Attack of the clones bred
from the same venom
Defendin’ a throne for an
honor lost in it
You want me, you can go
ahead, go ahead, go ahead
I made my peace with the
past, lord willin’
But the future, future,
future
-
Coroner, judge, bank and
jury
It’s all the same to me,
it’s all game to me, customer service
Loaded hearts, black minds
I’m about it I was born
into that life
Now, how they expect me to
be chill when there’s prison blocks they wanna keep filled
Handcuffs they been
waitin’ to refill and black bodies that they wanna keep still
Nah. You wanna advertise
butterflies in a glass jar
I’d rather lose face, keep
my skin and freedom standin’ on Gray Skull
Naaaah, you mufuckas don’t
know me. Why you wanna act like it?
Teach me my history and
let me celebrate it like you authorized it
Cut off the tragedy and
accountability from the timeline and cauterized it
Green lightin’ the rewrite
you rewrote, but we both know I’m the author of my shit
Yeaaaah, a threat to all
you know and love
Simply by turnin’ oxygen
in to C-O-Dub
Aire to the throne of
Latveria
And born on a waiting list
of Deathrow America with
Chorus
I could be sittin’ with
Lauryn Hill singin’ “It could all be so simple”
Or whisperin’ sweet
nothins to girls I ain’t even into
But I made a promise to my
grandma, that I’d keep it trill
So my lane is only for my
fans, my people, my work with or without the wheels
I push it like bad
policies, religion, refinance and revolvin’ doors
But pushin’ ain’t a
problem even if the wheels ain’t on’em. Hold up! Hoverboard!
But see me in my city
where disparity thrives and livin’ while black is little more a social crime
Rock n roll on life
support screamin’, “Life is short”. I’m from where hip-hop goes to die
Negative fucks, +1 Shield
I walk the day, I run the
night, I’m a bonafide stone cold Dunpeal
Hit it. Wanna entertain I
don’t come real
I don’t walk the house, I
don’t run the field. Please believe, boy, I run fields!
Get it? Hell is relative
to where you from
Rookies thinkin’ that they
got a cure with the holy gun
But I see with my Buena
vista from Doomstadt
It’s still black and white
with old money and new traps with
Chorus
