? Don't look now Seems like we're trapped somehow I'm not sure if we'll Ever make it out of here alive Don't look now Seems like we're trapped somehow
right Don't look now, seems like we're trapped somehow I'm not sure if we'll ever make it out of here alive Don't look now, seems like we're trapped
Übersetzung: The Living End. Trapped.
it or check it or they gotta hit the road I chase money like niggaz chase ass in the Pen and I need a few mills before the years end I pop my collar in
ve constructed I am your living legacy Broken, battered, bruised, by your love I've learned my lesson well I sing it in my sleep You and me till the end
grief without belief but to me If you really trust me then it's pitiful Question me about my whereabouts that's so trivial Let me live my life and you can live
trap Banging out with the po po Trying to get to some mo' Street life Young strugglers Racing the clock Ain't no telling when it all can end Roll
make decisions We should leave them a choice Cause who are we to say who lives and die Breathes and stops All this judgement on other lives Needs to stop
, hate snakes thug hatin the degree Outlawz on a paper chase Can you relate thug ni**az [Napoleon Chorus] We will never fall Thru it all, we'll always stand tall Cause in the end
I see the paper I see my picture, when a nigga's gettin richer They come to get ya, it's like a motherfuckin trap And they wonder why it's hard bein black
bust freely, got you red hot, you so happy to see me Make the frontpage primetime live on TV Nigga my girlfriend, baby forty-five but she still live One
stop [Chorus] Feel like a victim in this ghetto trap you got me stuck in this system now your stuck in this game feel like a victim in this ghetto trap
me stuck to a razor's edge And I'm trapped in a deadbolt glove You stand to cut me or enable... oh no And such a streak starts steading heads And I live
And both playing in punk rock bands The start was something good But some good things must end And she said it could never survive With such differing lives
run to (When the road you on is a dead end left wid borrowing and begging) When it ain't nowhere to turn to (When all this music shit play out and you trapped
m nice, That's why I'm holding the mic. Flowin' precise, Whoever knew this stoner could write? And spit venom, Get ready for the cobra to strike. The end
all, behind these castle walls... Nobody knows I'm all alone Living in this castle made of stone They say that money is freedom but I feel trapped inside
