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Yard Work

from Section One by Ngajuana

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Track 3 from Section One

lyrics

No one’s betting on me, -it’s fuck me,
I got few friends, in real life, let alone the in-dus-try,
So it stays how it’s been and it’s been- just-he
Justly, always figured things were how they must be,
I was born alone and I’ll die alone,
And wasn’t anyone there, when trouble piled on,
My soul’s tires are bald, so many miles on,
Because it never was I that luck smiled on,
So fuck smiling, gimme some drums and a violin,
Lemme take you on a trip, pile in,
I lived a messed up life, prolly like some of y’all,
Done too much, but still pissed I ain’t done it all,
And I ain’t done at all, but I been feeling like an old man,
Lately, things are better when I’m uninvolved,
I got some issues and they’re definitely unresolved,
In fact, come to think of it, can’t think of one I solved,
There’s something wrong with me, what’s going on with me?
I’m going off again, so come along with me,
Something’s haunting me; I dunno what it is,
It asked me; what is living? I said I haven’t lived,
I threw my life away, the best parts of it,
Or I could look at it like; I’ve just started it,
They used to tell me I was smart as shit,
Never really saw it, til I looked at my life and saw the art in it,
They told me have a heart; but living hardened it,
So now it’s me against me, but who started it?
And who’ll finish it? I’ve been colder than the winter is,
Sinner and a cynic, spit like cinders is,
Cinderblock talk, every word is heavy,
I flow like river, after river murders levee,
So the cops at my flat, now, weaponry words,
They aiming at me, screaming “Please put the raps down”
So I put track after track down,
And lying in my coffin is the only time you’ll ever see me back down,
The game’s dominated by ass-clowns, they big talkers,
But small potatoes like hash-browns,
And I could be the same, that’s for you judge,
You get an opin-ion for a rea-son, people; use it up,
I make the music cause the music inspires me,
Plus I need to spit out all this mucus inside me,
Am I sick? Is it lupus, or a loop in my wiring?
Yeah, I’m sick; fuckin’ loopy, but I duped the asylum,
Their report said “Dude is beguiling”,
Never seen a man closer to being an island,
Never really been social, but seeing where I’ve been,
You could maybe see the benefits to just being silent, keep your mouth shut,
The game’s loused up; my lady listens to the radio,
And most of what is playing through my house, sucks,
Imagine being me, -it’s frustrating,
Cause these stupid dudes were eating while I had to do B&E’s,
But I don’t rap about it, usually,
This is no act, so I don’t act, like I wasn’t acting stupidly,
Most emcees can’t tell the truth, truthfully,
I keep it real, beautifully and suffer for it, dutifully,
You’d do the same if you were me, but you’re not,
And since I’m in the spot, lemme say that you couldn’t be,
I’ll go to war for the things I believe in,
Shoot gun, swing swords every second I’m breathing,
And I’m finding that my just reward,
Has me standing in a black room punching at the air trying to strike a chord,
And me thinking that my odds ain’t good,
Gets me thinking, that if He exists, God ain’t good,
What could I, be thinking? I’m thinking that my hard work,
Shouldn’t be ignored, like yard work, my heart hurts,
It sucks being good at your vocation,
When you’re bound to be held down by your location,
Everybody thinks it’s soft here, so they hating,
But the difference is: we’re smart here, not so blatant, uh,
I think I’ve lost it; I’ve got no patience,
That’s why I’m smoking joints with these gospel pages
Cause my buckets too clogged and I got no papers,
Inhale, thanking God my saviour, ha-ha-ha-ha,
A little different in my thinking,
Won’t even climb aboard the ship unless the ship is sinking, uh
And this is probably why I go no place,
I straight talk, but the masses got homo traits,
And I should probably just let it go,
I feel better, having said it, though, whether people listened, I may never know,
It’s probably hard, when I ever-flow,
Try and spend a day in my head, it gets dull but it’s never slow,
So many thoughts going on it’s a traffic jam,
And that’s probably why I’m never feeling happy man,
Maybe I need meds and maybe I’ll get rich,
And maybe next week, I’ll be dead,
And maybe, maybes maybe might keep me full,
Maybe maybes will increase their pull, I don’t know,
But if you bet against me, something’s wrong,
Say goodbye to your bet people your money’s gone.

credits

from Section One, released June 1, 2012
Lyrics: N. Latella (Ngajuana)

Vocals: N. Latella (Ngajuana)

Production: PnT WorldWyde

Tracked, Mixed and Mastered by: Fresh Kils in The Kilzone

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Ngajuana London, Ontario

A product of London, Ontario, Ngajuana stays active in the Canadian Hip-Hop scene. Ngajuana is a proud founding member of the Canadian collective Dreamsters Union. Boasting nearly 600 songs, 6 albums (and counting), 200 shows and multiple awards won, consistency is no surprise; it's to be expected. ... more

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