Multiples - ATMOSPHERE

Right now, we gonna get together and give you a tune

That we had a lot of requests for…

I never gave props to emcees who don’t deserve it

Never smoked rocks, never had guts to serve it

Never had a Glock, never seemed to be worth it

Never had I thought life was gonna be perfect

Never hit the chicks unless I have a jimmy hat

Never leave the crib unless I have my shit intact

Never do I say a rhyme unless the beat is fat

Best believe that, never will the Spawn come wack

I never went to court, never had to serve trial

Never went to jail, had no records on file

Never disrespect, never treat my friends wild

Cause I never had real friends till now

So this goes to those

Who be supporting at the shows

And this goes to those

Who’s always working on they flows

And this goes to those

Who use music intake to escape

Finding love and happiness inside a mix-tape

And this goes to those

Whose criticism is constructive

And this goes to those

Who lyrically we just can’t fuck with

And this goes to those

Whose love is so strong

You can shut your eyes and see them when you listen to they songs

This goes to those

Who eat and sleep with turntables

This goes to those

Who say «Fuck the major labels»

And this goes to those

Who, unsigned and dead broke

Can still make a name before they even make a demo

This goes to those

Who keep the freight trains lit up

And this goes to those

Who roam the night just to get up

And this goes to those

Who tag and paint walls with aerosol

Lost city crew, from Minneap to St. Paul

This goes to those

Who flip the b-boy acrobatics

And this goes to those

Who put the ball in the baskets

This goes to those

Of you who listen to the lyrics

Cause this flow’s for those who can dig the Atmosphere shit

It’s like that shit

It’s like this shit

True heads are the real music critics

Was always better with flows

Then I was with shoulder pose

But no matter where you live my man the love is multiples

Anxiety: That’s my new drug of choice

Society: Where you go when you lose your voice

Rivalry: Stems from the shit your man’s telling me

Don’t lie to me, I know the real definition is jealousy

Observation: That’s my tactic to complain

Conversation: Distract you while I pick your brain

Atmosphere: Up-there lyrical unit

That leaves the average emcee confused like a eunuch

Nonetheless: That’s how I often change the subject

Second guess: That’s what they all do to Slug’s shit

Ironic: Most kids pale in comparison to my phonics

So come inhale some embarrassment

Roller-coaster: A metaphor for my delivery

Overdose: Results of having battle tendencies

Activated: Every time its my turn to rip

But «masturbated» means that you finally came to grip

So reality must mean: guns, bitches, and weed

Cause salary is what comes from: guns, bitches, and weed

Integrity means you’re in pain cause you’re in love

Collectively means that none of y’all could fuck with Slug

It’s like that, never the wack, an actual fact

It’s like act transglobal and local, so hold me back

It’s like damn aimless, tenseness, wandering

It’s a struggle, between what you can give and what you want to

Right now