Lost Desire lyrics

Home >> Artists starting with T >> The Roots Lyrics >> Lost Desire

It's the lump in your heart
Or the pain in your mind
No one cares what the truth is
It's a fortress built on lies


I'm exhausted but I never ever forfeit
Y'all just bullshit while I knock a nigga off quick
Y'all start speakin in tongues and start reachin for guns
A militant will put this heat in your lungs
The street in the slums, the weekend is done
The local class always show you what they need to become
The seasons are done, and reasons are none
People dyin' bullets flyin' cause they squeezin for fun
It's all of a nightmare, that's right there
They hopin' that somebody in the hood just might care
With all this protestin' and rallyin'
Death toll tallyin'
Foul smells around them pails in the alley an'
The corner filled with teddy bears, cause they killed a child again,
They sing about murder, so it ain't a song it's hollerin
Get off the choir with your soft attire,
Niggas out here don't give a f**k, cause they lost desire




My city's full of heartbreakers and stargazers
Who puff Garsh Vega's
til they gone with the wind, like Clark Gable,
Breathin' like Darth Vader, believin' in dark angel
Yeah, we got flags, but they not star-spangled
We not patriotic, the heroes are not them,
Ghetto griots like rims, you stop, they still spin,
Tall tales at the bar, witnessed after dark,
And we still stompin an checkin the proper timbs
Find More lyrics at www.sweetslyrics.com
And listen to Rakim
With the "where y'all been?"
For realla, I ain't been schemin and plottin
You fear us? Fear itself, personified
Payin' homage to homicide
Prayin' to the dollar sign
It's idle warship
The rebel forces
Bodies lie at the foundation of the fortress
This is war, we expect some losses
And we comin' for the heads of the bosses




We on some casualties of war shit,
What you stand for, kid?
We in the city where they definitely lost it
You open your eyelids and capped in the ribs
Your funeral they have your 12th grade portrait
Pretty corpse in casket, bell-shaped orchids
Said he 19 and left a self-made fortune
And left three orphans
Now he in a box with the same chain and watch
That never came off him
It's a shame what it cost him
Where he come from it ain't nuthin'
It's a everyday thing, that's a problem
It's chambers revolving
Bustin' like Russian roulette
With a full set, then change what the odds is,
Flames in the mosque, and
People held hostage
Everyday I struggle, try to get up out the mosh-pit
Homicide for profit, tell me how we not sick?
This shit is out of control, they can't stop it











Thanks to Rico for these lyrics

Writer(s): Karl B. Jenkins
Copyright: Domino Publishing Co. Ltd.
MusiXmatch