Blueprint — Time Management letra e tradução
A página contém a letra e a tradução em português da música "Time Management" de Blueprint.
Letra
Testing, testing. Test the mic? How we sound out there?
Hope it’s on. It’s on? Somebody turn my mic on
How I sound? Sound aight? Sound good out there? Better sound right
Want y’all to hear this. Turn it up a little bit
They gotta hear this. Gotta get this mic right
Gotta have the levels right. Feel me. Gotta be perfect
Gotta be crisp. One two, one two. One two, one two. Much better
Soundin' hot now. I like that. Testing. Here we go. Uh huh
I’m like guns smoke, floating in the air from a murder weapon
Whistlin' wind from shots fired off in seven
Realize inspire Gods to throw lightening out of Heaven
I’ll be standing over your body when the sound deadens
You got loose lips
But your music ain’t tight
I got a mean left
You box with gay rights
We’ll tie you up to a pole so you can’t take flight
Then pummel you to death with 108 mics
Weightless will never fall so end all resistance
There’s already way too much drama in this business
The character assassin leaves no witnesses
Pleading innocence
To the judge and the jury
Temporary insanity was the fuel behind my fury
I threw the book at the judge and got rushed by security
Spent 90 days in hip hop hell
And would’ve still been there if Inkwell didn’t post bail
Now I’m explosive corrosive like battery acid
Burnt plastic until this foul stench had me gaspin'
Only Aspirin could alleviate the pain and the tension
From writin' all my rhymes in three dimensions
While all the writers only occupy a single plain of existence
My imagery goes beyond simple bottles of Hennessy
Deciphering the mysteries of history
But these A&R's got me feelin' trapped like that movie Misery
Time management
Time management
Nothing but time on my hands
That’s all I got
Time management
My hands guided by the divine to write scriptures
For my listeners
It holds short attention spans prisoner
This probably ain’t the first Greenhouse song they ever heard
It’s cool if they know all the beats but don’t know the words
But if they knowin' all the words but they still don’t know the title
They probably downloaded it and didn’t get it from my crew
Makin' it hard for me to flourish
And with this pop hip hop it’s hard not to be discouraged
By these MC’s without identities
Soundin' miscellaneous
Enter my vicinity
Attack is instantaneous
Cold and calculated my life like chess
So every move I make means one piece less
Through self mastery
I relieve stress
And reinforce what it really means to be the best
Then I
Scribe lines with the energy of sex and let
Raps caress tracks like fat ass and breasts
Feelin'
Then need to write, plant the seeds of life
Greenhouse procreates with every song we make
MC’s takin' my CD home to imitate my genome
Nine months later my seed is sown
You took biting to the point that your teeth cracked
I can see it in your smile
You got platinum plaque
But that’s my style dawg I gotta have it back
Point blank, no lie I’ll make sure we handle that
Time management
Time management
Nothin' but time on my hands
Time management
Time
Nothin' but time on my hands
Tradução da letra
É fixe se eles sabem todas as batidas mas não sabem as palavras
Mas se eles sabem todas as palavras mas ainda não sabem o título
Devem tê-lo baixado e não o obtiveram da minha equipa.
Tornando difícil para mim florescer
E com este pop hip hop é difícil não ser desencorajado
Por estes MC's sem identidades
Diversos
Entre na minha vizinhança.
O ataque é instantâneo.
Frio e calculei a minha vida como o xadrez
Então cada movimento que faço significa menos um pedaço
Através da automestria
Eu alivio o stress
E reforçar o que realmente significa ser o melhor
Então Eu ...
Escriba linhas com a energia do sexo e deixar
Raps carícias como rabos gordos e seios
A sentir
Então precisa escrever, plantar as sementes da vida
A estufa procria com cada canção que fazemos
O MC está a levar o meu CD para casa para imitar o meu genoma.
Nove meses depois a minha semente é semeada
Levaste a mordidela ao ponto de partires os dentes.
Consigo vê - lo no teu sorriso
Tens uma placa de platina.
Mas é o meu estilo, Meu. tenho de o ter de volta.
À queima-roupa, sem mentiras, vou certificar-me de que tratamos disso.
Tempo
Tempo
Nada além do tempo nas minhas mãos
Tempo
Tempo
Nada além do tempo nas minhas mãos