Lyrics to Gemilut Hassadim
R.A.P. Ferreira will rap forever
You need to eat
You need not to be killed
You need to have some measure of freedom
So, I'm not here to tell you art matters more than freedom
But, I am here to say that art is part of being alive
Grandiose exodus
With every exhale, I escape wretchedness
Blessed defiance
The road to hell is piloted with compliance
Morongo Indian, Mofongo simmerin'
My uncle ain't no simian
More citizens, scuff black dookies
Dorner vs. Tookie
No tomfoolery
Beatific aura is my jewelry
You know Ro' gon' keep it pimpin'
Grasp on the infinite like we intimate
How we make idealism belligerent
Nappy ass metaphysicists
Midnight passion spillin' into morning
Upon the ash trays and I'm zoning
The mind pirouettes past the moment
As if the rhyme were the only component
Omens bombarding I and I alive, I and I alive, I and I alive
There are no rules about what is gonna be good and what is gonna be bad. Art doesn't give a shit. It never has
Oh, okay I hear it now
Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes
Yes, I hear it now
Okay, okay
My overzealousness is ambidextrous
I'm not really concerned with it
Considering their assassins eat ham sandwiches
Fantastic damages
Natural gum lining
Me? Well, I'm like a summer day when it hail but the sun shining
Style like steam bent bamboo
With that patch of turbulence when the flight attendant sit down too
Its kinda spooky, huh
I catch a moody buzz
Ruby Yacht, groovy love
Soulfolks cologne from the poem to the rug
From the elbow, to the hell no it ain't no sailboat
It's a big ass bag for the bail bond
Active shooter at Chateau Marmont
Riots, looters, and various sidearms
Pythons on leashes
I remember the smell of sky burning (Sky burning, sky burning)
I remember the smell of sky burning (Sky burning, sky burning)
When Pollock finished his first drip painting
He asked his wife, "Is this a painting?"
He made something that may not even fit in the very large category we call art
He didn't know
The interesting thing about Pollock is he only "dripped" for forty-eight months
I would ask any artist, any skeptic, any cynic
If you had invented fire, which Pollock did, are you strong enough to stop making fire and go back to hell?
Forty-eight months later, go back to hell and try to make something new again?
How many people have done that?
Pollock tried to change and by 1956 he wrapped himself around a telephone pole, out on Springs, Long Island
Totally alcoholic, in the car
A lot of people have thought I was dead for a long time
Yeah, it's not my fault
You need to eat
You need not to be killed
You need to have some measure of freedom
So, I'm not here to tell you art matters more than freedom
But, I am here to say that art is part of being alive
Grandiose exodus
With every exhale, I escape wretchedness
Blessed defiance
The road to hell is piloted with compliance
Morongo Indian, Mofongo simmerin'
My uncle ain't no simian
More citizens, scuff black dookies
Dorner vs. Tookie
No tomfoolery
Beatific aura is my jewelry
You know Ro' gon' keep it pimpin'
Grasp on the infinite like we intimate
How we make idealism belligerent
Nappy ass metaphysicists
Midnight passion spillin' into morning
Upon the ash trays and I'm zoning
The mind pirouettes past the moment
As if the rhyme were the only component
Omens bombarding I and I alive, I and I alive, I and I alive
There are no rules about what is gonna be good and what is gonna be bad. Art doesn't give a shit. It never has
Oh, okay I hear it now
Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes
Yes, I hear it now
Okay, okay
My overzealousness is ambidextrous
I'm not really concerned with it
Considering their assassins eat ham sandwiches
Fantastic damages
Natural gum lining
Me? Well, I'm like a summer day when it hail but the sun shining
Style like steam bent bamboo
With that patch of turbulence when the flight attendant sit down too
Its kinda spooky, huh
I catch a moody buzz
Ruby Yacht, groovy love
Soulfolks cologne from the poem to the rug
From the elbow, to the hell no it ain't no sailboat
It's a big ass bag for the bail bond
Active shooter at Chateau Marmont
Riots, looters, and various sidearms
Pythons on leashes
I remember the smell of sky burning (Sky burning, sky burning)
I remember the smell of sky burning (Sky burning, sky burning)
When Pollock finished his first drip painting
He asked his wife, "Is this a painting?"
He made something that may not even fit in the very large category we call art
He didn't know
The interesting thing about Pollock is he only "dripped" for forty-eight months
I would ask any artist, any skeptic, any cynic
If you had invented fire, which Pollock did, are you strong enough to stop making fire and go back to hell?
Forty-eight months later, go back to hell and try to make something new again?
How many people have done that?
Pollock tried to change and by 1956 he wrapped himself around a telephone pole, out on Springs, Long Island
Totally alcoholic, in the car
A lot of people have thought I was dead for a long time
Yeah, it's not my fault
