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Unhappy Faces
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dance religious rap hip hop beats underground raw instrumentals political muslim islam concious topical interpret interpretation
Interpretation AKA Basilio brings that raw flavor. Hip hop hero to those who really want to hear something conscious and political.
A. K. A. Basilio, Loves to produce music and from time to time I enjoys hitting the mic. Emceeing is a wonderful tool of expression. An art that is taken seriously and thus serious compositions made of witty metaphors and political points of views. I loves all forms of hip hop, even some of the main stream tracks that make radio play. The game is difficult to be in, but I remain content with being underground and unsigned. I am not looking for fame and glory. It would be nice, but I enjoy and love making music. that alone satisfies me.
Song Info
Genre
Hip-Hop • Hip Hop General
Charts
Peak #539
Peak in subgenre #269
Author
Lyric By Interpet beat by DJ JB
Rights
November 25, 2002
Uploaded
November 27, 2002
Track Files
MP3
MP3 3.0 MB • 128 kbps • 0:00
Lyrics
In the streets/ Peeps always check your leap/ Judging you by what you were on your feet/ In 90 degree heat/ With smiling teeth/ Females cause beef/ Homegrown reef is hard to find readily/ But around the corner the elderly/ Smoke their own cravingly/ No longer blindly/ Behind me I hear steps heavily/ On the run from the street beat/ Foot chase just became a defeat/ With out of breathe police/ Claiming it was donut grease/ Two deep breathes I released/ When kids skinny and obese/ Starting throwing eggs at Patrice/ Andale started yelling they mother/ See Patrice was her mans undercover/ Holding hands I see two lovers/ Them girls, no longer behind covers/ Way back I used to hold both they numbers/ Just past emerson/ On the avenue Winona/ Loud thumps of Mexican, the music persona/ Ramona yelling she no longer gonna take it from Tony/ But this bony phony always comes smooth like Bologna/ From popped bottle caps of tecate and corona/ Triggered caps are popped like the speed of Daytona/ While the aroma of the evening still feels mixed/ Teenage kids get they paint in a bag fix/ Its only a quarter before six / And the bricks already picking up tricks/ With lace and lips and no use of a pimp/ Caution beware of the dog/ But all I see is a scruff mut covered like a rug/ Could only imagine when I seen it’s foamed up mug/ On a shirt his momma tugged/ The Child new his time was up/ But started crying and kicking acting tuff/ Mommas always call out bluffs/ Making a kid feel like they just got cuffed/ Thinking life is ruff/ He wishes momma got hit by a truck/ But what happens is wishes luck/ My calculations has just become the latest innovation/ Through artistic creation Burnt toilet paper/ Becomes Indian-ink by its maker/ Incarceration makes the best genius/ Radios are made from paper cup speakers/ While on TV. My son watches the cartoon feature/ Within his mind exist the monster creature/ But reality becomes our teacher/ Showing the obscure becomes a cure/ Like the French word bonjour/ Picking up a brochure/ Life is ensured to be insured/ But a widow/ Receives nothing like Enron kidows/ SSN can’t afford med, rent, and vittles/ The Worldwide situation remain brittle/ As troops are sent to battle/ Media friendly fire accounts are prattle/ While loud brattle is being made by political cologne/ At home we haven’t conquered our own cyclones/ Assimilated the ghetto has made many drones/ As I hone on home/ Within street echoes I hear moans/ Could it be we becoming salty like stone/ I do my best at walking atoned/ But sometimes I’m prone to yell on the phone/ Still unknown becomes the futures song/ In preparation faith becomes strong/ We already know what’s wrong/ But in the age of advancement/ We focus on personal enhancement/ Now the definition brotherhood becomes abandonment/
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