DESCRIPTION:
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Artist: Ese 40'z
Song: Mental Notes
Album: The Realest
Year: 2011


-Lyrics-

"Mental Notes"

(Ese 40'z Verse One)
I'm on a mothafuckin mind burn to many days sober
got the devil on my shoulder ain't no four leaves on my clover
just a string of bad luck can't let em box me in
whether free or in the pen I'm still surrounded by the sin
cuz we're all doing time in our own way dwellin
the tattoo faced felon dumping rhymes out the melon
I'm the night time rhyme drifter, and watch the sun rise
smoke a blunt up lifter as another day dies
I take a cloudy day and watch the rain fall gloomy
blaze up another jay and let the pain crawl through me
thoughts of the past and visions of the future
like bullets off a blast my intention was to shootcha
up with these lyrics I possess like evil spirits
death is just another friend on the breeze and people fear it
so why try and psycho analyze what I be spittin
the psycho villain vandalize up in the cipher hittin
on the subjects steady touchin all the topics
letting off the (thug shit) to make my future fuck a prophet
cuz my soul is in the ghetto but my mind is in the tropics
sippin daiquiris and blastin high like NASA rockets
my flows are bitter cold like in the sub zero arctic
temperature degrees my shit's on freeze with some hard shit

(Chorus)
Now this for all my mothafuckin ghetto lyricists
their mirror images and their co-conspiracists
and this for all my mothafuckin thugs in the hood
throwing up their hands yellin out what's good
and to the ones totin guns or straight locked up
or on the block hustle tweek, tar, or just rocked up
I'm showing love to all my homies that be up in T-town
and all the rest across the globe fool we holdin streets down
to all the hoodies flashing goodies might of had a chance
but keep on dreaming while your scheming cuz ain't no last dance

(Ese 40'z Verse Two)
To the deceased......... well don't get me started
from the west to the east I kick a flow for the departed
R.I.P. to all my soldiers who be falling to the bullets
in the slums ghetto drums beating war to the fullest
a lot of people sit around waiting for a cataclysmic
catastrophic time while I rhyme on a rhythmic
flow with a hook that leave em jacked like a robbery
goodies in the sack shape a verse just like pottery
I be connecting all my energy drinking on some Hennessy
smoking on the remedy straight blasted like a Kennedy
cuz life's kinda funny for the midnight clown
feeling strange and deranged living up in a town
to many females in my midst with their scandalous styles
trying to blind me with their tits and evil mannerish guiles
where I can't recognize all the shady lit smiles
I turn a girl filled with youth into a lady with miles
but that's another trip up on a mental projection
of all the demons in my life straight in the villainous section
come take a trip let's collab take a stick take a stab
at the root of the problem all these lyrics that I have
that I gotta get rid of so I drop more tracks
put the paper to the pen and make the mental collapse
ain't no time to relax I gotta activate the lyrical
assassin straight blastin on the mental and the spiritual
and the physical the concept on the visual
no analog or digital a raw and wicked vivid flow
because I live it though on a track or video
beats for the streets mix em down and let the midi go

(Chorus)
Now this for all my mothafuckin ghetto lyricists
their mirror images and their co-conspiracists
and this for all my mothafuckin thugs in the hood
throwing up their hands yellin out what's good
and to the ones totin guns or straight locked up
or on the block hustle tweek, tar, or just rocked up
I'm showing love to all my homies that be up in T-town
and all the rest across the globe fool we holdin streets down