Текст песни Cuppa (More or Les) с переводом

Hard tracks with no n-word or gun talk?

You’re not Black or just censor the fun parts

Do not laugh — I’m a mensch worth a hun spot

Times ten k. Sense 8 — I feel your thoughts:

«rappers should get on, get wreck, get gone» —

Instead it’s Orphan Black in TO — just some prissy clones

Informal stats reveal y’schtick of «rich» be wrong

Hurry up and get on that Kick Starter kick to get

Your bones right like

Chiro'. Money won’t decide yo'

Worth, but I work, so what the fuck do I know?

Tryin' to make a jam that’ll shake up your spinal

Instead I write a rap about comic books and phyllo

Pastry. Hate me? That’s a world that I don’t

Really know 'cause I don’t go on YouTube to find your

Racist comments to read

Check your chi, Chuck E Cheese

I’m not a player, I just eat

Don’t like the flavour of mesquite, then why you grillin'?

Rappers play the villain — like children, use anger to hide their feelings.

Unwilling

To let the skill speak for itself, ditch the homophobia

Obia from Guyana raise the shit up like Sokovia!

Use words for nerds, and herbs suffer

Along wit' my career But clear, I’m no sucka

If you appreciate my pain, «whattup!»

'Cause I know what I say is not everyone’s cuppa

It’s plain my lane is not what the

Kids would call «gangsta». Thanks to my mother

But if you like my shit, then I love ya'

'cause I know what I make is not everyone’s cuppa

I’m different. Yeah, I’m different —

I don’t jock trends or do coke. The inference:

Rap’s a marathon, a bunch a y’all just wind sprint

On tracks — you running hard, but I don’t spot the shin splints —

Just fables. No cradles — I don’t rock for infants

Can’t this be fun and not be simplistic?

It’s complicated. Like GPS, rappers plot the safest root

To get loot, the truth’s that they’re not Bill Gates wit' this

Rap shit. Just plastic. My Voltron’s die cast

Metal with the missiles spring loaded that fly fast

Settled on a weapon: this vocal. Dissed locals — oops! I

Mean, I used to get dissed by locals who tried rap

For three years, then quit. Guess they got their dick wet

Enough to give up. Live up to my own expectations is this set

Of mind. Like poopin' Mickie Dees, yo, my shit gets

Refined. Job title is «emcee» — hustlas just don’t apply!

Use words for nerds, and herbs suffer

Along wit' my career But clear, I’m no sucka

If you appreciate my pain, «whattup!»

'Cause I know what I say is not everyone’s cuppa

It’s plain my lane is not what the

Kids would call «gangsta». Thanks to my mother

But if you like my shit, then I love ya'

'cause I know what I make is not everyone’s cuppa

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