Surreal - Outdone (Tech N9ne Remix)
Surreal - Outdone (Tech N9ne Remix)
Original Video: • Tech N9ne - Outdone | OFFICIAL MUSIC VIDEO
Original Audio: • Tech N9ne - Outdone | OFFICIAL AUDIO
Instrumental: • Video
Lyrics:
I willing to die for this shit.
I done cried for this shit, might give my life for this shit.
Put the pen and pad away, look in my eyes for this shit.
Only me, my enemy, Element-O P with this.
Wait.
I'm not an A-B-C rapper.
I ain't been seen with these rappers.
I'm tryna open up another chapter.
I been in a crate since the great Cobain faded away
But in the same, we gained Ella Mai, Aminé and some others.
I was born in '94, legends were torn away before
I had the chance to know or recognize the things they did or said.
My head was split when I hit 20 years.
Led by my friend to the wave.
The music sounded Futuristic.
Cole was burned in my brain and kept me warm when they missed it.
Kendrick told me that God is Gangsta
And they were like Gemini to me.
Music too driven, I could be,
Missing the message but I'm guessing the lesson is "Choose who I should be."
U and I are so important to me that it's permanently on my bicep.
Those oratories take me out of the purgatory where I've slept.
I won't pretend to be what I'm not.
Wholly ahead who we mark the spot.
Never descend to a darker thought.
We gon ascend til we kilowatt.
I can't do this on my own man, I'm having Tech Nickle difficulties.
But if I shouted out to Royce and N9na “I need mentors”,
It'd be a spectacle, a killer for me.
Loss of credibility before the real in me hit a spree of showing out for the 64teen
Wanna bring the city up from its knees cause we only had a dog for a dog's life, then he left the scene.
That's what it sounds like now whenever I hit my town.
No names selling 20 tickets for the spotlight, half out of pocket, I know I'm right.
I'm one of them. But I have a greater lesson.
I've seen 8 teenagers grab that stage just to speak about a fetish.
But not the sexual kind, it's got the youth, made them dumb and blind.
Spitting shit about; bricks, sticks, tricks, guns, drums, sons, hoes, highs, lows, drugs
And the shit they want but they'll never own.
Even PoinDexter ain't been too much better.
Well, that's fair cause welfare giving them bread and cheddar,
But nowhere they stopping the plugs from getting they bread and cheddar.
And they separate via section 8 while separating these section 8s.
Like they tryna calculate how they'll compensate for Freddy's aid.
Like your fate is only weighed at the bank.
Now here I am, complaining. But I've got different problems.
So depressed, full of stress, and my art's the way I solve them.
How can I spend the rest of my day writing when my day is full of rest.
Emotions got me so drained I can barely grab my pen.
I put my all in the ink, or pour aid in it with the lemon taste.
But nothing of all is still nothing and that is where I lay my pain.
I refuse to take the clout route, like all these lil rappers.
Talking drugs upon the SoundCloud, looks like we need a rapture.
Nickle, Tech, Cole, Kenny, Slim, and others I ain't forgot.
Maybe not the originals but they paved the way to the parking lot.
Those are the ones I wanna be like. So I try to take a similar path.
But when that path is overgrown and lost, there's no point in holding the map.
I don't know what to do so I keep writing to stun.
No platform but if that storm's already begun.
I'll be changing my format, then record that til I'm on the Billboard, get spun.
Then maybe one day under the sun I can say I'm never Outdone.
Surreal
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