Song Description

A song based on the events and activities in the average week of Zupreme.

Lyrics

On Mondays You can find me - In line at O'hare/
Boardin those planes, climbing the air/
Hittin' the road, headed off doing my thing/
Of course, ghetto niggaz think I'm movin' those thangs/
But I, approach life with more than just clarity/
I make moves carefully, bang and bruise heavily/
And I don't mean just fights/
I mean every point in my life, Whether it's day or it's night/
On Tuesday's you can find me, with my knees on a carpet/
Prayin' Allah forgive me or pardon/
All of my sins, knowin I'm a sinner regardless/
Oh Allah give me the strenght to keep this promise/
Give me the strength to NOT look too close at her garment/
Give me the strength to NOT snap and forcibly harm him/
When pride takes a man too far out his zone/
I don't wanna be the one to split his mind from his dome/

(x2)
I, Put in work 7 Days a week/
Use my legs and you can come travel with me/
Use my eyes and you can see the things I see/
Use your ears and you can hear the truth I speak/


On Wednesdays, the start of my lond day usually/
Involves callin my wife and thankin' her beautifully/
For the son that carries my name/
Some of ya'll out there that got a namesake feelin the same/
Hang up the phone, I'm off to work another day/
Thinkin' to myself, there's another way/
If I only have the courage to take it/
'cause I know the media would love to strip my family naked/
I don't wanna have my little girl's face in the paper/
Either way on Thursday, I'm in the studio bakin/
More hits, more beats, more bars, more spits/
One day, one way, one may spark this/
Friday, I'm back out workin again/
Passin niggaz on their driveways polishin rims/
Thinkin deep thoughts, of how to get in the game/
Saturday's almost, Always the same/

(x2)
I, Put in work 7 Days a week/
Use my legs and you can come travel with me/
Use my eyes and you can see the things I see/
Use your ears and you can hear the truth I speak/


On Sundays, when I'm standin' on post in the Mosque/
My heart's in Palestine, arm-in-arm wit' Hamas/
Only difference is, Im standin' with my back to a boulder/
Bangin at soldiers wit' stars and stripes on their shoulders/
Drippin' venom from their fangs, on the ground like cobras/
Splashin' Arab blood, but the black blood is older/
And it's still stainin' they hands, stainin' they lips/
No wonder boys at thirteen loadin they clips/
While old men stage a reparation march wit' they hand out/
They grandsons sell dope, pop guns, stand out/
Fourth of 'em go to prison, fourth of em give up livin'/
Fourth of em chang lives, find wives, live wit em/
last fourth end up like the Nas song/
Blowed up, no guts, left chest face gone/


Z-Figga. Magnitude./
Chi to Damascus Blast this/

(x4)
I, Put in work 7 Days a week/
Use my legs and you can come travel with me/
Use my eyes and you can see the things I see/
Use your ears and you can hear the truth I speak/