🎵 Martyrs // by Deleted Artist

2 ContributorsMartyrs Lyrics [Verse 1: Common] This is street radio, for unsung hero Riding in they regal, trying to stay legal My daughter found Nemo, I found the new Preemo 'Ye, you know how we do, we do it for the people And the struggle of the brothas and the folks With lovers under dope, experiment to discover hopes Scuffle for notes, the rougher I wrote, times was harder Went from rocky starter to a voice of a martyr Why white folk focus on dogs and yoga? While people on the low end tryna ball and get over Lyrics are like liquor for the fallen soldiers From the bounce to the ounce, it's all our culture Everyday we hustlin', tryna get them custom rims Law, we ain't trusting them, thick broads, we lust in them Sick and tired of punching it, I look on the bus at them When I see 'em struggling, I think how I'm touching them The people [Chorus: Pusha T] Twenty-two niggas, two to a car Eleven flagships with the three-point star The only other ballers is them three-point stars We only 5'9", they think we point guards Twenty-two niggas, two to a car Eleven flagships with the three-point star The only other ballers is them three-point stars We only 5'9", they think we point guards, ha! [Verse 2: Kanye West] Your fly is open, McFly The crowd is open, I think I know why I'm back from the future, seen it with my own eyes And, yep! I'm still the future of the Chi Back in college, I had to get my back up off the futon I knew that I couldn't cop a coupe with no coupons Look at that Neutron on his green like croutons People asking him, "Do you have any Grey Poupon?" (Yeah!) With niggas masked up like Phantom of the Opera Dreaming of the day they push a phantom to the operas Can't wait 'til they say, "'Ye ran up at the Oscars" "Papa, I heard his life is like a movie" Like when Em played him and Mekhi played a rasta Mexicans gon' love it like it was for La Raza But this is for the mobsters, holla We some true Chi-town legends; accept no imposters [Chorus: Pusha T] Twenty-two niggas, two to a car Eleven flagships with the three-point star The only other ballers is them three-point stars We only 5'9", they think we point guards Twenty-two niggas, two to a car Eleven flagships with the three-point star The only other ballers is them three-point stars We only 5'9", they think we point guards, ha! [Verse 3: Pharrell Williams & Kanye West] Four in the morning you hear the nines blowin' Armor all on they cars to keep the shine goin' For the ready-rock they smoke that shit on cans I was rockin' flattops and rockin' slip-on Vans Screamin' "Killa dude!", and rolling my pants up As the ghetto bitches mixed the neighbourhood dances up But this wasn't a soft place Friendship villages threw the smile off ya face So I, started pacin' to exit my situation Then I became the basis of Steve Stoute's translation Sure I'm on that brother shit, but I started thinking colorless Like my favorite watch, but I had to get the other wrist I'm trainin' em young, they were schoolin' 'em mane Fifteen killin' niggas, face cool as a fan Told them "The right bullet hole will free one's soul (Uh) Let you control the block and get a ve-hicle [Verse 4: Kanye West] I know you're- I know you thinking, thinking that it must be Armor-All flow 'cause it never get rusty I ain't gotta say it, man, dog, trust me Bust somebody head, GLC, where was we? Still rock the Prada—'fore that, rock the Starter Niggas had the Georgetown, the Magic way harder Thinking back to the projects, and they way they tore 'em all up Like when I do a project, and come back and tear the mall up [Chorus: Pusha T] Twenty-two niggas, two to a car Eleven flagships with the three-point star The only other ballers is them three-point stars We only 5'9", they think we point guards Twenty-two niggas, two to a car Eleven flagships with the three-point star The only other ballers is them three-point stars We only 5'9", they think we point guards, ha! [Verse 5: Lupe Fiasco] There's an arms race, like I'm runnin' on my hands A dance marathon on my napalms, and Drop mine's first so that they bombs can't And Glocks, lasers, missiles, beat rocks, paper, scissors I built mine's big, better build yours bigger Built mine's quick so I could kill yours quicker The number one supplier, the world's largest equipper The second smallest dier, best non-coexister I pledge allegiance to gasoline and bulletproof limousines And leans on the property of the poor And every night, I pray to the Lords Of War Every man and MAC-11 That all good child rebel soldiers go to AK-47 heaven And a landmine in every playground that they step in And YouTube the footage from the cameras on the tips Of our bullets, and record like former Darfur (Push it) [Chorus: Pusha T] Twenty-two niggas, two to a car Eleven flagships with the three-point star The only other ballers is them three-point stars We only 5'9", they think we point guards Twenty-two niggas, two to a car Eleven flagships with the three-point star The only other ballers is them three-point stars We only 5'9", they think we point guards, ha!