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Born 4 This
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b*** , I was born for this. Thanks to Dyme Bags for the beat.
hiphop rap music artist new york city new jersey underground lyrical urban nyc poet rapper staten island nj poetic truth shaolin penns grove shaolinyankee ahamiltonandhope concretecollabs thetruthhurts
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My new album "METAMORPHIC" is out now on all major streaming platforms. Visit my official website www.jcthetruth.com for more details!
What's up, my name is JC and I've been writing and producing music since 2004 as an independent hip-hop artist. You can check out my entire library here on Soundclick (which includes mixtapes) or play my albums on major streaming platforms such as Spotify, Apple Music, iHeart Radio, Amazon, Napster and Soundcloud.
Song Info
Genre
Hip-Hop • New School
Charts
Peak #123
Peak in subgenre #23
Author
Jeff Clark aka. JC - The Truth
Rights
For Promotional Use Only
Uploaded
October 20, 2007
Track Files
MP3
MP3 5.0 MB • 128 kbps • 5:26
Lyrics
BORN 4 THIS By: JC THE TRUTH HOOK: Aiming for the top Aint never gonna stop Left hand got a mic The other hip-hop. I was born for this. I was born for this. I was born for this. I was born for this. VERSE 1: Its JC The Truth suckas The hip-hop animal Ate so many mics They thought I was a cannibal I lean when I spit Call me pan-able Yea I said that I spit Call me Mr. Camel Every track that I touch It turns flammable Flow so f*** in fire Its un-fan-able. Im aiming for the top The Empire State Northeast spread your arms out Embrace fate. This is New York City I rep the underground Yea I stay down south Never Uptown. Staten Islands my borough This is my throne Try to take my crown Man, I dont think so. My flow is too molded, Im focused Emotions devoted You cope, and hope you jokes - Im dope, cause Im a f*** in Im a poet. Musics my godfather I chose this life I married hip-hop b*** es Shes my wife. HOOK VERSE 2: These dudes try to act hard Like Diamondback handlebars But really weak in the knees Like SWV. Concrete made me Yea, I know my boy well. Made of rocks and sand Comes in many different smells. Had a bed of blacktop Lined with packing box Woke up several times With my f*** in back in knots Tell me I never struggled Ill take ya face off Peaceful as possible But Ive never been soft. These dudes stay sloppy Like South Philly Cheese Steaks I bake precise Like a New York Cheese Cake. I dont take breaks Im always in the kitchen cooking I was born to make bread Through these rhyme booklets. Yall spit crooked I spit like a bullets path Shot out the barrel Hitting flesh, coming out the back. Do the math, do algebra Do geometry. The solutions one answer No ones stopping me. HOOK VERSE 3: Converted hustler Lost a Father and a Mother So I had to fend for myself And feed my own hunger Showed them birth-givers I hunt my own supper Im a grown ass man I dont need you motherf*** ers. Forgive me for my anger and pain Ive survived situations Thats puts a bit of weight On my brain. Strain on my name At least Im not addicted to cocaine Hard liquor, or crack Smack shot in my main vein. Yea, Im insane Thats why my flows so sick And you cant strap my tounge up Cause my lips spit swift Yall rappers stay sweet Like liqourice Rockin jewelry like a chick sh** s ridiculous. All I needs a rubber band And a watch on my wrist Dogtags on my neck Reminds me of my gifts Im aiming for the top Number 1 on the list Every spot below the first Is irrelevant. HOOK REPEAT END
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