Hook 1 repeat twice
Society try to write us off
And used propaganda
To right they wrongs
When the real spoke up
It raised the bar high frequency
Lyrics you heard the word of god
We conversant over baked salmon
Figure out more ways to keep
Cake pilling
Peep the hate from the fake smiling
Doing the hate challenge when u in
Their face it’s love they stay silent
Slithering in the snake hours
make a mistake you dissappear
trying to take ours watch who you
face timing on the phone dialing
peace king you know the routine
move in silence the rest telling
on their self social media wilding
plus it's more of us on the bus
the jails over crowded most
politican is crooks or cowards
you ain't for the people that's what
the crowd shout it
hook 2 repeat it twice
Society try to write us off
And used propaganda
To right they wrongs
When the real spoke up
It raised the bar high frequency
Lyrics you heard the word of god
verse 2
once was loyal now the money gone
they turn snakes for the papes
veterans colluding with snakes
cosigning wack music for extra food
on the plate just because we don't
do it or approved it they claimed we hate
what a disgrace these lames hide the truth
in their face the drugs was yours
eight co-d's on the case
you should of own up to it
but you took it to trial the prosecutor smile
they knew it as soon as you blew it
you'll be gone for a while
plus you took the block down you used
to be thug now they call you cop now
see the tables done turned
it was right in your face you wasn't
able to learn
hook 4
Society try to write us off
And used propaganda
To right they wrongs
When the real spoke up
It raised the bar high frequency
Lyrics you heard the word of god
Verse 1
Tru Trilla
Block huggers Spot rushers
Your face gushing the blade cut ya
Pen touch paper spontaneous combustion
Get you now or later kill your assumptions
Crucify your favors murder your doubts
Smack blood out your savior knocked you out in front of your spouse
Get woke up put to sleep slapped out
Act out 18 shots shoot up your trap house
No hand shakes no daps out
Big gun in your face he passed out
Pat your pockets get the cash out
These rappers garbage take the trash out
Hook
This that real rap y’all real wack
All that mumbo jumbo we don’t feel that
Take it how you take it all that noise we kill that
This is history in the making bring the feeling back
2nd verse
Prince Ak
These deejays gaming
Shit that they playing is sounding pitiful
Ain’t heard nothing lyrical
Bars nasty venereal
No Percocet or Roxy
I spit vitamins minerals
It’s Brick City talk NJ a 0-50 general
Content straight drop block work material
My flow is immaculate my voice is imperial
Section 8 flow rice check wick cereal
Everything literal genetics track back to Israel
Brain like a elephant charismatic and heaven sent
I stay hella bent shit they spit be irrelevant
My style eloquent underground while they elegant
And deejays part of the problem it’s all evident
Hook 2
This that real rap y’all real wack
All that mumbo jumbo we don’t feel that
Take it how you take it all that noise we kill that
This is history in the making bring the feeling back
Hook
They can’t stop us they can’t get us
You could follow all you want
Get clapped you ain’t with us
Yea they rap but they ain’t spitters
Talk that hustle same pack y’all ain’t finish
These wack azz rappers is corn balls
Two years later more faker they fall off
Organize chaos supreme rap order
Murder saince piss in your tap water
The left jab abbreviate you nose from
Your face the right hook will punch your
Bone right back in place I do you dirty
In that order it’s that 05 you could lose
A organ
your face hold five two bullet holes in your Jordan’s
What’s important your music or the people
Who ain’t supporting is you selling or you snorting you with the gang or they extorting you get the whole stash
Of the bag or a small portion
You just hoe for the corporate eyes open wide
Playing dead in a coffin not to many ever make out often doctors over your chest screaming out
We lost him playing around it cost him can souped sauce
Hook
They can’t stop us they can’t get us
You could follow all you want
Get clapped you ain’t with us
Yea they rap but they ain’t spitters
Talk that hustle same pack y’all ain’t finish
Fuck your shoes on your car
You could die in your socks
With name brand clothes on
Two holes in your knot
I guess you fresh to death
Or just a hot mess Left for death
One week you’ll rot yea the mag is out
Toe is up tag is out no need to push him
You could dragged him out blabber mouth
Don’t know what they blab about while
Your heart still beating I could grab it out
Just poke you in the chest and stabbed it out
Fake king pins get uppercut Your knees bend
Body shot buckled loose breath you need wind
Automatic rifles at door we ease in now
You on floor holding jaw bleeding yea the chick
Told us the spot you be in the two stash house
Plus the time You meeting rapped him up tie him up tight throw His Punk ass off in the deep in
Hook
They can’t stop us they can’t get us
You could follow all you want
Get clapped you ain’t with us
Yea they rap but they ain’t spitters
Talk that hustle same pack y’all ain’t finish
Hook 1
We beat rappers up
Y’all rappers suck
Running outta of time
Better rap it up
No speaking No dapping up
Y’all had y’all little shine
Now that’s enough
Verse 1 Tru Trilla
Hip-hop War lords road warriors gladiators on stage we kill the audience
Barz track you down blow up your corridor
From Newark to Florida cross the map all around
Follow tip rap formula compound
By the grams u could sale it whole sale
Or hand to hand its the lyrical content that's dope no chemical enhanced
To manipulate the hoax
The explosive impact knock
Feathers out your coat
Drag the unloyal for blocks
Rope tied around throats
Early morning bakers
Who need bread by the loafs
Canolope hayz already rolled
lets smoke metal face like destro
Hook 2
We beat rappers up
Y’all rappers suck
Running outta of time
Better rap it up
No speaking No dapping up
Y’all had y’all little shine
Now that’s enough
Verse 2 Fly Kwa
The flow is undeniable
Whoever chose to tell you you're nice them fools lied to you
Everytime I’m riding thru the music just knock hard
Throw the V in 6th gear speed pass cop cars
Never been the type of dude riding on coattails
Playing the block hard or relying on coke sales
I just be cool like the food in ya deep freezer
Get money and move down south where the rents cheaper
I’m from a hood known for stolen cars
Hustling on the block day and night that was ya only job
It’s only Kwa doing what I do I ain’t taking no chances
I just watch how dudes move snakes like Cobra Commander
Hook 3
We beat rappers up
Y’all rappers suck
Running outta of time
Better rap it up
No speaking No dapping up
Y’all had y’all little shine
Now that’s enough
Verse 3 Confucious
Middle finger up to the government
I’m still cooking up with no oven mitts
Getting this bread theirs a couple option
I’m hands on like bare knuckle boxing
Emcee’s get destroyed by the thousands
The booth got a sign on it
Only real spitters allowed in
True knowledge is base off experience
Trial and error is base off experiments
No chemistry class no laboratory jackets
Barz lyric word play
Every paragraph vocabulary active
If I don’t punch in the face my barz can
Won’t see me coming I’m Zartan
Hook
We beat rappers up
Y’all rappers suck
Running outta of time
Better rap it up
No speaking No dapping up
Y’all had y’all little shine
Now that’s enough
Verse 1
I send signals that’ll crash your spaceship
Your bars not heavy they petty and weightless
Brake jaws God of Bars I weight lift
What’s yours is now ours for the cause I take shit
Never behind your back right in front of your face bitch
Beat rappers up out of luck who shape shift
Hating on the low want to know with that snake shit
T Trilla hang with gorillas and ape pricks
Never run walk through the jungle and shake shit
You ain’t gotta like it but respect it and face it
Fuck your mammy understand me I’m nothing to play with
My work flow effort flow epic when laced it
Your tunes ain’t loony style is basic
Raised the deficit moves move so effortless
Rappers is fruity and booty Tyson Beford shit
No fruit of balloons these coons wearing leopard prints
Hook 1
You know they don’t rap you know they don’t rhyme
Everybody a rapper spitting ghost writers lines
They never sold crack stack a thousand at a time
Everybody a kingpin, somebody lying
Verse 2
Yeah y’all rapping with no feeling
Online hustlers claiming you dope dealing
Clumsy hustlers you wondering who squealing
Bars is scarred for life with no healing
They never figure it out til they slammed on their heads
And dud their cigarette out without a doubt
We don’t trap house we snap out and black out
Aiming the strap out now get the stash out dog
God Anubis your rhymes is foolish
Send a virus that’ll blue screen all your computers
Hack your shooters they turn on their rulers
Blast your medulla forgot the password you need a new user
Tru magnetic your flow need clothes
Your rhymes is half naked booty lyrics on ass records
No style profile you half stepping
Clown sit down and just take this ass whooping
Hook 2
You know they ain’t strapped your bullets ain’t flying
Everybody a gangster, only online
You don’t talk facts you know y’all be lying
As soon as the fed come the whole block doing time
Brick City’s lyrical marksman Tru Trilla brings the noise and then some on the new explosive hip hop album “God of Barz”.
From the State that brought us Wu Tang, Rah Digga and Ice-T, the New Jersey rapper and long term affiliate of Naughty by Nature and Lords of the Underground follows in their legendary footsteps with a heavy verbal artillery at his disposal delivering fierce bars and dexterous rhymes.
Raw and uncompromising, Tru continues to plant a flag for the Garden State. As part of the group 050 Boyz who derive their name from the area code, he enjoyed worldwide recognition and media coverage for the release of their “050 Everything” album in 2015 which culminated in guest appearances on Sirius Xm at the invitation of both DJ Eclipse and DJ Premier.
The new album however represents a broadening of horizons. There is an additional international dynamic with productions courtesy of Barcelona’s Sumerio Square and England’s Chat One, while Chicago’s DNA Beatz weighs in with a concoction of sounds drawing from both the classic and contemporary eras.
With the musical passport stamped, Tru returns home and calls on local hero Clinton Place (aka Jamal Nueve) for some further sonic gems. Now based in Los Angeles, the original tour DJ of Flavor Unit’s Supreme C delivers high on the quality scale as expected of someone who has produced for Ice Cube, Mack 10, Canibus, Rass Kass, Skyzoo, Yukmouth and Killah Priest.
Newark natives Middy Murdock, Fly Kwa, Confucious and fellow group member Prince Ak compliment Tru’s rhyme schemes as the album’s featured guest artists, intensifying the energy with their own distinctive flows and gritty lyricism.
Tru digs deep with the subject matter. His passionate bars are a war cry championing the cause of the underdog, the disengaged, the oppressed and the aspirational. Deploying the narrative of the inner city, venomous lines are spat out with indignant defiance in a wave of precision targeted salvos.
The political tensions of racial profiling, corruption, deprivation and equal opportunities are given equal billing to wider issues of survival hardwired into the psyche of the street. Tru’s dedication to the traditional ethos of hip hop is also evident throughout, and like a veteran prize fighter prowls the ring in pursuit of young pretenders with their current representations of the genre.
Amidst this raucous war of attrition are moments of pathos with Tru in more reflective mode, recounting his earlier life and personal journey through the years.
The eclectic productions feed the mood swings. The driving fuel injected intensity of “God’s Mercy” is contrasted by the stripped down percussive beat in “Fake Views”. Straight head nodders “Word of God” and “God of Barz” play off the upbeat funk laced through “In and Out”, while the bass heavy electro banger God’s Sympathy reaches inside, pulls out the soul and sends it back in pieces.
In essence, “God of Barz” reflects Tru’s earliest influences Rakim and Public Enemy – bold and rugged, it’s the harsh realities served with some hip hop sugar. Compelling listening, one for the ages.
credits
released August 31, 2020
Lyrics written and performed by Tru Trilla
Additional lyrics written and performed by :
Middy Murdock "God's Partical"
Prince Ak "Real Rap" and "Get it Going"
Fly Kwa "God's Sympathy"
Confucious "God's Sympathy"
Production by
Clinton Place (aka Jamal Nueve) "God's Partical", "Real Right" & "The Rebel"
DNA Beatz "Word of God", "God's Mercy", "God's Sympathy" & "God of Barz"
Sumerio Square "Real Rap" & "Get it Going"
Chat One "Fake Views" & "In and Out"
Copyright 2020 New Dawn Records. All rights reserved,
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