Canal - RATKING

New Ratking!

Canal, canal

Stop soul, soul stop

You best die my way

On the West side highway

Or get high my way

Hanging off the left side of a sky scrape-er-er

My words word have drifted

Sideways, migrate in the Tri-State

Mind state, thinking don’t violate

Thinking that I’m vain

Cause when I spit, you see my veins

Bulging out, cold as cuts from my blades

And they used to cut cold cuts five ways (Five ways?)

Thin, slim, extra slim, large, extra large

My rhyme spectacle sees time perpetual

Back before I was ape, I was a vegetable

Life-form, trying, to become, an icon

I once, was an ion

Now I’m eying, every motherfucker passing by on

Now the power in my brow

Make a thug uptown, come down to hustle on Canal

Whats the bustle all about?

Sweet kid with a free crib, hustle on his couch

Now the power in my brow

Make a thug uptown, come down to hustle on Canal

Whats the bustle all about?

Sweet kid with a free crib, hustle on his couch

Hollowed spliff days

Stained canines, decay minds

Now wait mom

Always gave me the chance

But I stay blind

Outlive me lots of love

So churned for me to say

Promise me this know I was done

So Lenox here I lay

Lay, lay, lay you’re my guest

Breathe out the stress, lets digress

Sweated seventeen summers so surely you’re my nest

Suckled ya stopps 'n' ya honey combed coral chest

Hak 'n' his hounds hover the heights ritzy won’t have the rest, rest

Feeling trodden talons trickled as they tear into your flesh

'n' try to gnaw the nectar 'neath ya knit floral dress

Sense of a city that you breath

What a mess but yet you continue to feed

Sense of a city that you breath

What a mess but yet you continue to feed

Now the power in my brow

Make a thug uptown, come down to hustle on Canal

Whats the bustle all about?

Sweet kid with a free crib, hustle on his couch

Now the power in my brow

Make a thug uptown, come down to hustle on Canal

Whats the bustle all about?

Sweet kid with a free crib, hustle on his couch

Sense of a city that you breath

What a mess but yet you continue to feed

Sense of a city that you breath

What a mess but yet you continue to feed

Sense of a city that you breath

What a mess but yet you continue to feed

Sense of a city that you breath

What a mess but yet you continue to feed

Think the city has let up?

Get up, wake up

Open your eyes

Wake up!

Think the city has let up?

Get up, wake up

Open your eyes

Wake up!

(Turnstiles are nothing, they called me grasshopper)

(Salt stained Clarks, sixth sense stashed proper)

Think the city has let up?

Better check up

Kids that is fed up

Instead of

Bitching and moaning, they get buck and get up