Текст песни The Thrill Is Back (Styles P) с переводом

(I feel it coming back though

I mean it’s back, really though, you know)

The thrill is gone, I think it’s coming back

40 below, bubble coats and a lot of struggle rap

(New York, New York)

Back in the days I used to juggle crack

Met real hip hop and fell in love with that

And the money along with it

But what’s a good time without hearing a song with it?

Used to wonder where the did the culture go

If it left did it go where it’s supposed to go?

Good question, no answer

Living slow, more like Jo Jo Dancer

No sniffing, no burning up

If he ain’t turn the mic on how the hell he turning up?

Design of my mind is so intricate

Smoke, make the rhyme up, not hard to think of it

Ill writer with no ink pen

Walter White of the bars, you Jesse Pinkman

(Your style is played out)

We shining brighter than the lights on a cityscape (New York)

Something’s wrong, the thrill is gone like Biggie say

Start a revolt like Diddy, nope, I’m not kidding

With a targets, they leaving in a scope like Fifty

The slave mentality over, we think bolder

I finally kept the craft, now I’m killing these King Cobras

They try to take the crown, but they drown in they own blood

The next time the dudes came around they showed love (Where the love?)

The heart is a house for love, but where your furnishings

Complaining about the game, but still voting with your purchases

Burning it, I murder the tournament that determine it

For the market and they slobbin' on the knob that we turn it with (Turn it up)

The bars make you follow the stars, I’m like Copernicus

The Gods flying up to the firmaments to feel the turbulence

The bullets gonna hit you from the pistols that they burnish

Got you praying for tourniquets, hoping that the scar ain’t permanent

Come on, man

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