Story Behind the Song
The perils and lessons of the street. A song written by 3rd in 2000 that was only recently recorded. A prolific writer, 3rd Son has written over 150 songs, as well as countless verses that have yet to be recorded.
Lyrics
Song: I Will Survive
Artist: 3rd Son
Verse 1
Night air heavy it weigh a ton, burdened by guns and sons of bitches still sucking their thumbs/ Throw ones in combos, block in fifty two sums/ Drink until we brutal inhale smoke in our lungs/ In the name of fun, some fucking raw and then cum/ When the child come, many hit the door run past’em/ My thoughts numb when I think of capers when I blast’em/ Automatic weapons with passion, eyes flashing/ Him or me so he can’t win the man standing/ Six one, One-Eighty brandish and brand’em/ Shea side to Yards Camden, haters damn them/ Peel off til they dampened, where they camp in/ Short folicles, still Samson friend or kin/ Writings on the wall revolution begin/ Evolution defend, resolution amend/ Persecution of then, monuments of mockery/ Ball-faced tales, cointelpro hipocracy/ On policy, cast as oddity, used as novelty/ Murk the prodigys, hold us solidly with poverty/ Fake theologies, mohoghany from ivory/ Tailor made taunts and bribery keep us rivaling
(hook)
I Will Survive..(Now’s the time for Change) Repeat
Verse 2
Beware of cats with broken will, with nothing to lose ain’t nothing to kill, misery loves company like those ill/ Seen the worst of it, bitches faking the pill/ Jacks turned out to be Jills the ways their mouths spilled/ Soldiers in field, turn and squeal when a gat ring/ Even though they toting a thing, life a steel caged match in the squared ring, we all combatants rumbling/ Back slams by cops troubling, pissed off because we finally out here bubbling, keep us stumbling/ On obstacles system cold as popsicles, keep the pressure hot tropical, higher cost for higher schools/ Force our hands to reinvent rules, hold death tools to make safe moves, they taught us that/ Why we got nukes, so that nobody fights back/ For trilly black, brown, red, white, yellow, heads in the struggle/
And its like, one verse all everybody wanna ball, village raising small done stalled/
Envy plus genocide got our balls not to mention the law/ Its easy with money yo but
who survive a fall/ Or a call in the middle of the night moms bawl/ Through tears, you
hear your brother died in a brawl/ Life’s course, steel wool womb to the corpse/
Feeling pressure like the Hoyas full force/ Through the course, taught facts is found
to be all farce/ And the answers that we seek is all sparse/
(Hook)
Verse 3
I know cops with con sense, killers with conscience/ Bitches that blow backs out like Bronson and niggas who wants men as much as them/ Preachers sin, confess do it again, lead their whole flock blindly into to fire and stonebrim/ Skies of crimson, projects filled with all components mentioned, Ascension in street life how fast you drech’em, rhymes rugers or rocks, dough like pensions/ Lump sums is how we need’ed come fuck a payday/ Shit ain’t sweet have that ass screaming mayday/ Puff green hay laced in optimo everday/ Every night serenade be the gun spray/ Dt’s play funny games with what your people say/ Cruise slow glaring at cats around the way/ But its ok, I got you ofay word to OJ/ Seeing through your form like an xray/ Expose, signed sealed sent counterfeit dossiers/ Cases full of wholes like macrame/ Lock our leaders away, cover it up like a toupee/ And burn the evidence in flambe soiree’s
Outro
END
c 2001 3rd Son
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