Lyrics: Clint James Posselt
Music: Clint James Posselt
I’m not from the ends so I won’t do trap
Girl too good, giving angel how she sat
Fine I’ll rap, I’m not from the ends so I won’t do trap
I’m not pushing white, man I’m far from that
My chain too thin but my wallet still fat
Cash so clean, but didn’t wash it through a mat
My girl too good, giving angel how she sat
My bars too honest, it’s all facts, no act
And y’all don’t resonate with that
Raised in FNQ, 4880, M-town DNA half half immigrants to indigenous
My upbringing PG, the native youths had it scarier, shit I heard at school insidious
On the footy field we played as one, it was beautiful, R.I.P. to all the brothers that passed from this
Wish we could throw the green and gold jersey on one more time, pass and try, dap and hug, man shit was bliss
The grandp’s came on boats, Italia and Deutschland in my veins, nanna just made it, so sick from the waves
She went through so much and I never seen her cry, crying like a baby at her funeral, ain’t irony wild
Opportunities in my past, academic, sporting, singing, and all of them I took for granted
Relying solely on talent, heart missing so never saw them through to the fullest, need advice talk, like Ted
Fine I’ll rap, I’m not from the ends so I won’t do trap
I’m not pushing white, man I’m far from that
My chain too thin but my wallet still fat
Cash so clean, but didn’t wash it through a mat
My girl too good, giving angel how she sat
My bars too honest, it’s all facts, no act
And y’all don’t resonate with that
It’s funny when you not established, they say ‘Clinny, stand out, be original’
So why the **** all the hip hop charting sound the same man? It’s hypocritical
And I’m hypercritical of everything I’m writing down, analytical, far from typical
And I know I sound cynical but **** man I’m just trying to reach my pinnacle
I’m diagnosing this rap game from the shadows, hidden voice of reason, Doctor Who?
There is bits I can resonate to, but most of it like baby talk, make me gag, goo goo
I’ll show you who’s who in the zoo, I’m the only one with any ticker, and I bet my left jab quicker
All talk of knives and guns, anyone remember how to throw hands?
Call me old fashion, but them old threads slicker
I told y’all I’m not a gangster, trustworthy face like he got all the answers
Baggy clothes hugging my figure, like mum at that catch up dinner, she love knowing I’m not a sinner
You can hear in my voice I’m transparent, fighting evil from the shadows, straight ghosting, Obi-Wan
Only pressure from myself, cause I’m mad, wanting every song I spit to make me number 1
Plenty giving me advice, I’m polite so I take it all in smiling like they so insightful
Then I do the opposite, Clinny go left, and I’ll go right, still
I get it, you have to fake it till you make it
But half you ****ers don’t make shit
And the ones that do make it continue to fake it
The shit y’all spitting is weird and I forsake it
Fine I’ll rap, I’m not from the ends so I won’t do trap
I’m not pushing white, man I’m far from that
My chain too thin but my wallet still fat
Cash so clean, but didn’t wash it through a mat
My girl too good, giving angel how she sat
My bars too honest, it’s all facts, no act
And y’all don’t resonate with that