Album: Project X
Track: The Truth
Artist(s): Confession
Release: 2008
Pen Bleed Publishing (ASCAP)


[talk] the most incredible. . .yea, bout to do it like this. . . Yo, yea. . . Diggin back in the crates. . . . Breathin life into some old shit. . .

Verse1:
When I grab the microphone and start spittin these bars
And your head knocks, that’s when you know I’m givin my all
I’m registered to be a nousiance, ever word’s relentless
So every rhyme you bust, I bust, but mine will equal ten hits
Philosophical, born for the impossible
Another Puerto Rican bored of peepin through my optical
Am I an illusion or probable
With a pocketfull of notebook rhymes I’m unstoppable
‘Bout to get the heads hyper
Throw your hands from left to right like some windshield wipers
I’m might just, freak like Mase and turn righteous
One minute I slang and change quick like dirty diapers
My pen’s ink is like a viper
When I spit that venom you kick back when I strike ya
Whack raps are not healthy
And that’s the truth, and nothing but it. . . So god help me

Hook
Bring it back, ugh - Bring it back, ugh
Lets bring it, bring it, bring it, bring it, bring it back, ugh!

Verse2:
Reviewed mediocre rhymes but yours takes the cake
The only thing your album’s good for is paperweight
Its like jumpin in water before its safe to swim
You basket case, don’t have what it takes to win
Face it, nigga, your basic and tasteless
I got more shine than your rhymes just on my bracelet
Even if you were a calendar, you’re still dateless
But claim gangsta names that’s outrageous
You must be dehydrated and malnourished
Cuz the only way your shits on fire is in a furnace
While I retain more heat than a thermos
And one bar I spit could rip your epidermis
I bring pain like bad nurses
The only time you spark a rhyme is when the mic short circuits
I bring light to the surface
The name’s Confession a.k.a The Truth, you’d better learn it.

Hook

Verse3:
My words are blazin, six years of impatience
Sensational, top gun on this station
You’re mistaken, any emcee, forget races
Eat rhymes from Puerto Ricans and Blacks and shit Asian
Try harder if you wanna riddle with me
Cuz the only plaque you’re getting is the shit on your teeth
Now let’s engage in war till my breath escapes
I’ll leave you burnt like the toast on my breakfast plate
I stay mack from both heels to hat
Outta commission for a minute but the real is back
You’ll feel this tracks impact when I peel your cap
And know I’ll still roll when all four wheels are flat
Definition of a thug; misunderstood souls against the grain
Its hard in these desperate days
But maintain sane when you’re in a hectic frame
Cuz you aint gotta play in it just respect the game.

Hook

[talk] yo, some brand new old shit shit if that makes any motha fuckin sense to you. . . Had to do this for my niggas back in Cali, yo. . . I know you remember this shit. . . Haha. . . The Truth! Ya know. . . Its been a long motha fuckin time coming when I go back and mix. . . some 2001 shit. . . On some brand new 2008. . .but you know what. . . I’m the motha fuckin man like that, I can go back and dig in the crates and make this shit triple fuckin platinum bitches. . .yea. . . The Truth!