Music - Ruckus Chronicles

Ruckus Chronicles
gangster rap, rap

[Verse]
Walkin’ round town, got the belt in my hand,
Sayin’ them folks don’t understand the plan.
Bleach in my veins, self-hate my brand,
Mirror talks back, it don’t give a damn.

[Verse 2]
Slingin’ these rants, spittin’ fire on the block,
Clock strikes twelve, still cleanin’ your clock.
Worship my job like a preacher in shock,
Prayin’ for a boss who won’t watch me rock.

[Chorus]
Ruckus on the mic, preachin’ disdain,
Gospel of division runnin’ through my veins.
Throwin’ shade, my anger profane,
Spreadin’ my truth like a runaway train.

[Verse 3]
Talkin’ ‘bout them lazy fools on the couch,
Sippin’ their dreams, while I scream and I grouch.
Scrubbin’ floors, I’m the king of the slouch,
But I still look down from my self-made pouch.

[Bridge]
Pulpit of hate, yeah, I built it tall,
Preachin’ my sermons, my unholy call.
Eyes on my people, I condemn ‘em all,
But deep down inside, it’s my own downfall.

[Verse 4]
Chain in my pocket, but I ain’t no king,
Singin’ this sorrow, while my pain takes wing.
Pride’s my weapon, but it cuts and it stings,
Caught in the mirror, hear the gospel it sings.