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This Is My Prayer

by Lyrical Profet

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1.
Intro 05:43
2.
VERSE I: Straight out of the burbs Spittin fire that'll scold ya Vallejo, California, E-40 shoulda told ya Rolling over adversaries nicknamed boulder So get out the way, it's about to get colder Dusting off my shoulders while I'm stepping over roadblocks Tipping over porter-potties, while yall take commode squats Better check the credits, I bet it reads My company lettering ProfeticLyrics, everybody else is just settling Writing's my calling, it's ok, you can let it ring. Tried to stop me in customs, cause I keep on meddling Fighting for 2nd place? Awww, keep pedaling. I'm kinda committed to this and music's my wedding ring. Yeah, I got the game wrapped and I don't just wrap and you can trust, that shyt you talking get's flushed Wack rappers attack us steady claiming that they're the baddest. You're out for victories that don't even matter to us Aint worth discussion while you're cussing and screaming, "Get out my lane!" I'm on a jet plane, reclining the seat. You gotta problem on your hands now You should've planned out How the hell to stop a young black educated man Down for the cause Won't set my standards down for applause Not for the fame This shyt's more than a monopoly game Profet's the name Betta step up on your property name Topics have changed and we aint even discussing your name You gotta problem. CHORUS: You gotta problem You gotta problem You gotta problem You gotta problem and that's me...that's me...that's me...that's me VERSE II: Who am I? I'm just a motha f*ckin regular dude Paying dues to a society that's ready to prove They're worth more than the recession dollar versus the yen Verses extend It hurts to pretend So I'm going in On a one-way traffic filled street Hitting donuts in the middle of the block Hollering YE! (theoretically) If you aint grinding then you better be I've got rhymes for miles, while yall centimeter measuring I'm the ruler of the school Got the tools and the abilities Professor of the pen Lyrics seep out of my skin F*ck a trend! I'm carpooling, good gas mileage riding on 10s Let me stop....now watch em spin My name is L-Y-R-I-C-A-L P-R-O-F-E-T Spell it out phonetically Put it in a melody Front and tell ya folks, that you wasn't even feeling me But we both know CHORUS: You gotta problem You gotta problem You gotta problem You gotta problem and that's me...that's me...that's me...that's me
3.
VERSE I: Whether jeans or slacks I’m well pressed, light sag in the back Gotta walk like I’m diagnosed with swagger attack Watch em react the ladies say, boi you a mack Look me up & down & try to peep the tip on the bat (I’m sayin) Naw I aint playin, I‘m just spittin it fact gotta cold mouthpiece see me rippin the track right? The problem is, I don’t know how to act Cuz tucked shirts & me is like free throws & Shaq I had an interview at 9:15 betta know, I’m in the lobby sharp at 9:15 gotta stay sharp, so I need my green but the lady behind the counter’s lookin at me mean Excuse me miss, I gotta blah blah blah she picked up the phone & all I heard was ha ha ha Som’ bout me must’ve snapped her bra and if momma didn’t raise me right I woulda slapped the broad when she said So & so said position is filled betta know, corporate America don’t be keepin it real This aint the 1st time, I’m knowin the deal Shirts untucked, like I gotta weapon concealed I tried to reason, she ignored the appeal So I, reached in my pocket for my pick made of steel Picked out the afro, said thank you to ass hole and walked out with guards on the heels all because... CHORUS: I don't wanna tuck in my shirt (repeat) VERSE II: Second scenario same premise Same young menace Still stubborn as they come, so come witness I like my shirts pressed, lights starch Baggy pants, loose draws & my socks dark Stay ready for when situations might spark Roll up to spots in a t-shirt I’ll button up after I park I never drive in the kicks I rock Stick shift clutch I’m switchin fits, block by block They got a dress code box? Know that in ‘em I’m not Damn...I’m kinda faded Trynna remember the plot I gotta pee It’s a zip & a flop TMI, Too Much Institutionalized brainwashed I floss with my mental Nina Ross I’m lost in the system & I’m finna break out Thin walls, dirty stalls, This aint what it’s about Hard 8, 2 fingas, I’m out...like my shirt cuz CHORUS: I don't wanna tuck in my shirt (repeat)
4.
Dreaming 03:32
VERSE I: Was it all a dream I never seen somebody so fly So I took a mental picture fore she passed by High heels, accentuate her nice thighs Her hips spoke to me, fore I got waist high I'm fitted up, so I'm thinking that I might try Take a chance, then I glanced in her brown eyes They're staring at me Looked around for a second Just to check if my perception was flawed I'm thinking oh my God! But still I stepped so calm I asked a couple question, gave her so called charm Somebody please, unplug the alarm Cause I aint trying to wake up right now She pulled the purse off her arm Reached in and pulled out a pen Wrote down the number with a heart at the end. I'm really hoping this shyt aint pretend Walked away thinking about the text message I'd send singing... VERSE II: I will never forget those brown eyes Beautiful smile, she let me get a glance at her soul But it was two fold Her mental image in my mental frame I called her up asked her if she wants to do some things. We talked for hours, found out she's been through some things. Recent scars often guard hearts But she was God's art. She knew religion and philosophy I laughed it off when she asked me what's my prophesy. She was in school chasing a law degree. I said I'm chasing dreams, baby would you follow me @ Cat daddy and she dougied too. We're holding hands on the dance floor like couples do. Imagination's running wild, yeah but what's new? I'm motivated. Kelly Rowland singing plus two If I'm dreaming, my reality's about to bust through If you knowing what I mean, then let's cut soon.
5.
VERSE I: You asked for change Wallstreet stood & took to the streets. The whole world stood behind them In attempt to defeat The 1%. Power struggle With nobody to lead Picket signs to the blind Step up or concede Mr President We out here marching in peace Tent city's gettin cold While the hunger increases Don't wait for the polls Cuz the problems exposed Thorned rose from the concrete streets where the woes come in Costco packs This is beyond black Class wars Separated by glass doors You asked for-change VERSE II: We're only after what's right Camp nights in the streets to ignite change Asking 1% like Spike, Do The Right Thang Banks raising fees, like greed's a disease The trickle down never made it to me I'm kinda jaded you see Bills past due that I can't pay Foreclosure notice telling me that I can't pay Tear gas and sirens, but I can't stray When occupy hit the streets of The Bay It got real to me Don't let the real cause disappear Success is so far, realize that doom is near If we don't hit the bulls-eye we won't sustain From Wallstreet to Egypt to Oakland to Spain You asked for change.
6.
9-1-1 04:22
She's struggling to breathe I got blood on my hands, but can't leave I'm propping up her head while thinking, this is weave? Damn, she used to be so real, but couldn't cope. Now she speaks only about guns and dope. I hope today isn't the day she passes on. She's looking so weak right now, please be strong. So many depend on you to carry on, But so many pretend to love you. When the storm comes, they disappear and I'm starting to fear, That I can't carry you alone You're heart's turned stone Would somebody please pick up the phone cuz when Hip-Hop dies, she's gone CHORUS: (Trevor Lyon) Someone please call 9-1-1 Tell them Hip-Hop's been shot down and the bullet's in her heart and it's piercing through her soul I feel her body getting cold Someone please call 9-1-1 Tell them that my love's been shot and she's falling apart Please bring back Hip-Hop of old I see the game is getting cold Verse II (Dom Jones) I’m breathing heavy as they keep firing shots Won't someone come and protect me My legacy is in jeopardy I’m bleeding presently No one’s dialing the cops Take over hostilely Fakers plotting to body me Waiting for all the sauntering, swagger jacking and all the beef to stop In reality, none of this shit embodies me Can’t believe I’m laying here thinking of all you promised me Blinked back tears, now all I am is a novelty on the block A commodity, record exec's property A dying genre Formerly known as artistry And please pardon me Pop is blocking my arteries But with my last breath, I’ll take us back to the top CHORUS: (Dom Jones) Someone please call 9-1-1 Tell them that I've been shot down and the bullet's in my heart and it's piercing through my soul I feel my body getting cold Someone please call 9-1-1 Tell them that I've been shot down and I'm falling all apart and it's piercing through my soul I feel my body getting cold VERSE III: 180degrees Ass backwards more concerned with the fees Then the brothas RIP'd on the baggy ass tees Please save her She's begging in the pews on knees Address real issues, teen sex and HIV. Doctors saying she'll survive only 8x3 Time's ticking and the written words turned to disease. What's popular will change like the leaves on trees. While the fake blows away with the breeze. Call 9-1-1 CHORUS: (Trevor Lyon) Someone please call 9-1-1 Tell them Hip-Hop's been shot down and the bullet's in her heart and it's piercing through her soul I feel her body getting cold CHORUS: (Dom Jones) Someone please call 9-1-1 Tell them that I've been shot down and I'm falling all apart and it's piercing through my soul I feel my body getting cold
7.
VERSE I: To the cats that came before me Thank you for paving the way Thank you for pressing record buttons and letting it play Now I got something to say Anybody with me, let’s go Everybody else, get outta the way Speed it up to the day before the days my folks moved to The Bay Mom lived in the projects, dead broke just trying to make a way Financial aid and loans trying to make it on her own Pops came from the country served his country now his country’s gone crazy They had some babies Dedicated everything they had and prayed daily Sent me to private schools instead of getting that Mercedes Hated uniforms, but damn, I loved the ladies....anyway Any way they could improve our chances for advancement they would chance it so I can’t just say I’m sorry for being what I’ve become I’m proud of my folks and yeah, I’m proud of where I’m from PREP SCHOOL COLLEGE ALUM yall and I’m not sorry CHORUS: See I don’t give a damn about what’s been done before and I’m not I know I say a lot of things that you don’t understand but I’m not See I’m just doing what the f*ck I’m supposed to do no I’m not No autotune in the booth delivering yall the truth I know I missed a couple notes on the hook yall but I’m not sorry VERSE II: My fourth grade teacher told me I would never be shyt My eight grade teacher told my mom That she should just quit My high school dean Said that I probably wouldn’t graduate Belief in self is all that matters So forget the hate No matter the status or accomplishments We make it Just stay true to self And take it a day at a time Whether or not, I make it in rhyme I know, I’m gon’ be fine I work hard and stay on the grind For that I’m not sorry
8.
Good Man 04:06
VERSE I: I wanna be a good man Something that’s inside of me All I do is try to be but it’s hard, so hard to be a “good man” The good stand tall while the weak undermine it Laugh & criticize it Peer pressure got the meek wondering why’s it so hard, so hard to be a “good man” in this world Diamonds and pearls replace integrity We build up walls, and use our words for weaponry Maybe for protection, I don’t know, I’m guessin The weight of our words is lessening While the kids follow the lessons seen I want my son to be a good man I want my daughter to understand her worth so before their birth I wanna make sure I’m an example A man that can handle the questions that arise, in their daily life I’ll ask my wife if I’m a good man, before I have, before we have, before we have VERSE II: Show me the eyes of an angel the heart of a saint always have the answers never say I can’t teach you how to love art maybe even paint build up ya confidence and make ya worries faint Never ask where’s daddy cuz I’ll be by your side The right road is narrow the wrong road is wide Whether you win or lose come back to me with pride I’ll always have ya back I’m just happy that you tried Choose ya friends wisely so many wear disguises Planned or surprise I thank God for your life From ya first step, to ya first date Never be in a rush, but never hesitate Remember everything in life has a time & place Forget them other lames, run it atcha own pace I plan to be there, but I wrote this rhyme just in case I never get the chance, I want your mom to tell ya this
9.
I, Speak truth, cuz so few will Stand up while many remain still We gotta get it, cuz if not who will No use waiting round, got time to kill?---------Naw Gas pedal, punch Last of the bunch Who gives a f*ck about the future Good talk, let’s do lunch Keep it movin, like the laws of inertia Real life, not dress rehearsal In flight, gotta check with the purser Make moves, like the dog that hurtcha’s on ya heels The real’s extinct It feels we think Too much in the now But for now, we sink In to the seats Grip wood grain & slap beats Fillin up ya mind, like a shoe with fat feet Killin off rhymers. Thought that he had heat Mistaken Trim fat, cheap ass bacon I’m shaking, the dice & rolling And I aint folding Speak With Beatz, gon’ show it to em.
10.
I’ve been trying to break these chains But the lyrics they keep on running through my veins Cut me open and see words pour out like rain storms No norms See unformed thought....it’s poetry. See I’ve been chained to the rhythm of the track Now, I pay taxes on how crowds react So, speaking truths on what I see as fact Captured and grabbed by who I tried to aid Music is art, not something you can grade Controlled by faders on mixers None can fix us Time more than ticks Real words they, stick in our mind We’re seldom defined We live in-between the lines drawn Never decline to speak my thoughts in rhyme on Any topic, any rhythm, but the argument remains? I’m self-conscious with my lyrics so they constantly change Defined by my faults way more than my gains But....watch me break these chains See I’ve been chained to the rhythm of the track Now, I pay taxes on how crowds react So, speaking truth on what I see as fact Chains hold us back from destiny’s path You question or laugh at My right for being here rerun your math I’m business minded, I don’t need no staff Got the next 10years in Excel on graph I accelerate over hurdles My goals is way further No time for breaks I’m accustomed to snakes But for now, I’ll keep it friendly for customers sake But I aint never been the type associating with fakes A man’s worth is worth way more than any man makes And the less bending on principle the longer the path takes So...I know....I know.... But watch me break these chains.
11.
God grant me the right to live a long life Raise some kids and appreciate my wife Remain strong, when things go wrong but I'm thankful, even if this is my last song VERSE I: I’m tired of seeing lives lost, at too young of age It’s kinda crazy seeing fights spark from the stage Kinda looks like waves crashing, casualties of fits of rage End up in hospitals if lucky, but too many graves Lord Save Em Ambulance is on the way Somebody move this damn car, gotta clear the way Time is more than money in this case, wouldn’t you say? What a price to pay for having a good time. Now let’s pray CHORUS: God, Please save us This is my prayer Life can seem impossible At times I stop and stare (up at the sky like) God, Please save us This is my prayer I close my eyes to make sure you’re still there This is my prayer (repeat) VERSE II: My bills stack up taller when my bills lack Stomach’s growling, I’m just trynna get a meal back The hoop is raising, we might wanna get Shaquille back So many frontin, I’m just trynna bring the real back Scuffed kicks & without glue the heel flaps Tough brick exteriors getting peeled back My city's bankrupt, I’m outta gas & wheel’s flat I mean tire, I’m just tired. Can you feel that? Can you feel that, I’m in a bind and wanna steal that Trynna be morally right, but on the real black I gotta eat, and my conscience won’t let me fail I’m a victim of show and tell In a situation revealed On the news, Ironed my suit, and I shined shoes Trynna go legit, while applying rules Pink slips move quicker than my shoes Is running for Mayor We in recessions, there’s no dust on that chair But the streets is where I’m keeping my ear Come shake my hand at the fair To those that’s listening, the message is clear Don’t stop until the finish line you chase disappears Stay yourself no matter what, it’s only you in the mirror Hit the gas pedal fearlessly, and let God steer God grant me the right to live a long life Raise some kids and appreciate my wife Remain strong, when things go wrong but I'm thankful, even if this is my last song

about

This Is My Prayer is a Hip-Hop Mixtape that addresses a variety of topics. Lyrical Profet is the owner of Music Lyric Writing company: ProfeticLyrics. See official videos at www.youtube.com/ProfeticLyrics.

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released January 7, 2012

mastered by: LohMusic and Trakworx

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Lyrical Profet Vallejo, California

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