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Chief Kamachi
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1
[Chief Kamachi:]
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Yo, the first grandson of Phillip Lee*
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Grew up on the Ave, where they was dealing D
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Searching for my moms, oh where could Camilla be?
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My Uncle Upstate, hope they set my killa free
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Days is dreary, little swollen eyes stay teary
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Grandmoms died on my birthday, speak of a dearly
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Until this day, feel like a warm embrace they near me
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And got me, when this young nigga can't think clearly
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Inside me, had to be strong from the start
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Day-by-day but everybody around me falling apart
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Alone in the dark, wanna put the chrome to my heart
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With the heavenly weed that I know the angels spark
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These the things that influenced my behavior
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Go to Church; probably put a shell in the Savior
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Worship for what!?!
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Niggas ain't working enough
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Was praying to pay my way but I judge for a book
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Tryna stroll but it seems the world was hurting my strut
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Don't wanna have to resort to drastic measures
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I'll kill for a bird with fantastic feathers
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If I don't get paid off this voice, these classic treasures
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[Hook: (2x)]
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I'm on the edge nigga, like I was born on the ledge
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Cuz I said "Please" that don't mean to push me to the edge
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Hard to be righteous but easy to put one in ya head
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I'm from the slums in Congo, live from this dunya
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[Chief Kamachi:]
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Yo, I live them Section-8 Housing tales
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Depressed, chain-smoked over 2,000 L's
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Hungry miles, with little vials to sell
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Keep my bear warm in Philly's crowded jail
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Some ain't coming home or even browsing bells
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Suicidal, whether we be doused in hell
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It's strapped in special war, in the middle of blue walls
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Where they keep human vegetables stored
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Some genius with incredible scores
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But than the kitchen crack come send 'em to their ghetto medical store
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They go crazy, or smoke that Bolivian pure
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Skies is hazy, is these days we living in war
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And I wrote this A&R, the infirmary floor
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From my brothers became broke like they learned to be poor
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On the edge nigga
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Man, what kind of world is this?
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Man, the faggots have stolen the fucking rainbow, man
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[Repeat Chorus:] (2x)
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[Chief Kamachi:]
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Maybe I'm crazy, never occurred my state blurred from the tropical herb
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Messing with my optical nerves with the doctors observed
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Is the young hustler disturbed, got the psycho in me
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I can see it in my face, immediately
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I can walk the line of evil, obediently
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It's getting dim, and I can see my light leaving me
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Must be the dark spirits and they thievery
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High on the stoop, wild as Congo
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Visualize paint, elephant and army suits
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Don't be drinking orange juice
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In the white jacket, can't get my arms loose
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Even the though the nurses was Indians teaching me Kama Sutra
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Still tryna find the cooch on mama goose, sinning
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Looking for the zone off in the Ritilin
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Cuz I'm tripping, screaming "Fuck the police"
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In the hospital catching on the edge, nigga
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