Decisions - Markis Precise, Locksmith

That’s what I’m talking about

This is what I’m talk-- This is hip-hop

Locksmith in the buildling

I told y’all

I got you stuck off the realness

I spit nothing but street

Step to this, you’re good as gone, word is bond

'Cause I don’t need gimmicks

I got you stuck off the realness

You better ask somebody

Word is bond, I go on and on

Locksmith

Look

Young fella, umbrella

Locked in his closet so the rain comes hella

Harsher than expected, neglected, he’s got a chipped shoulder

His big brother is locked up and he’s not sober

Started smoking at age ten, sipping at thirteen

It’s hard to admit, but he’s a hurt teen

He’s hurting but he buries it in aggression

He started rapping, that’s the natural progression

It’s more about the melodies and less about the lyrics

The content, drug, money, and bitches

The flow never switches, the beat never falters

He’s got a passion like the preacher at the altar

Stealing from his mother, she barely pays the rent

And the church wanna take ten percent?

Community division, and now he’s faced with decisions, yeah

From the womb to the tomb

Cradle to the grave, we sing along and pray

From the street to the pavement

Block to the burrow, nothing is that thorough

From the womb to the tomb

Cradle to the grave, we sing along and pray

From block to the burrow, ain’t nothing now thorough

Now he’s running the street with his feet planted firmly

On the pavement, every day in engagement

With a rival turf, he’s searching to find a lick

Steady dropping songs, hoping one can stick

Hoping one’s a hit so he’s flooding his SoundCloud

Purple drank and dank sprinkles his sound now

Straight from the medicine bottle

'Cause he’s living with his girl so they constantly squabble

From the trap to the lab, then back to the trap

He’s hustling, but he tells everybody he raps

And he only sells pills so he can pay the bills

Plus he’s dealing with all of his family’s ills

And it’s still not enough where he can afford pampers

And pay for studio time, what’s the answer

And his little girl is growing, not to mention

So he’s faced with decision, yeah

From the womb to the tomb

Cradle to the grave, we sing along and pray

From the street to the pavement

Block to the burrow, nothing is that thorough

From the womb to the tomb

Cradle to the grave, we sing along and pray

From block to the burrow, ain’t nothing now thorough

I got you stuck off the realness

I spit nothing but street

The time is now for me to shine

'Cause I don’t need gimmicks

I got you stuck off the realness

Step to this, you’re good as gone, word is bond

So hear me out one time, you gots to be yourself

Word is bond, I go on and on