It Was Rewritten: A Nas Tribute (Mixtape)

by Devine Carama

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about

I just wanted to pay homage to Nas who was the reason I first picked up a pen and began to write in the first place. I also feel "It Was Written" was one of the most slept on albums ever in the critical sense and I wanted to shed light on that particular record in hopes this generation would revisit more music from an era with musical diversity and lyrical dexterity.

credits

released 01 October 2012

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Devine Carama Lexington, Kentucky

Devine Carama has been supported by Complex, The Source, Respect & Vibe Magazine. He's also worked with the likes of Thee Tom Hardy, Nappy Roots, legendary battle MC Canibus, & underground hip hop group CunningLynguists. He's had the opportunity to open up for such artists as LL Cool J, Ludacris, De La Soul, Scarface, Tanya Morgan, Little Brother & more! ... more

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Track Name: The Message
The Message....

Hook..

Devine Carama, the Dalai Lama I am a product, of writing real for the Nightquil I rhyme insomnia/ I write ill, despite chills I rhyme in sonas, like I rhyme in Ghana, Barack Obama of the mic skills/ I set precedence, I'm on the precipice of excellence, I rep Lexington and I'm blessed to be a blessing with/ a renewed effort, this is truth and my confession and we combat the devil with this music with a message...

Verse....

For your spiritual profit put some stock in my next verse, we always had fake MCs but now we got a lot worse/ rich white boys whipping they pops jag and then taking they weekly allowance to go and try to cop work/ So they can live what they hear in rap, but if you don't truly live it where's the fear in that/ you ain't brave, you just a slave to the parts born, in the caves of this art forms, where they say stars born/ while pure MCs struggle to stay relevant, the industry cradle these corny rappers that's embellishing/ amount of weed they smoke, how many queens they poked, rounds squeezed from toast, and counting g's on boats/ it's lame, selling your soul to rap Satan's soundtrack,
Then when real beasts come, you run away when that pound clap/
See y'all shackled by the need for pounds and daps, me I ain't about that I got freedom of the soul....

Verse 2.....

Its hard to hear rappers bars about Aston Martin, when Trayvon Martin another young black in a coffin/ or seeing your little brother stuff hash in a cigar but can't cut grass because his asma and he's coughing,/
Or cousins in the ghetto who rather con than work, or homies that rock J's just to see a broad twerk/ but I never could afford those so I rock Converse plus i was busy trying to marry the same place that Nas birth/ not a hoe but Queens, with confidence bold, that can compliment the soul of king/ love dominant we solders of a regime, that's the opposite of the populace, we are controlled by are dreams/ I'm the modern day Moses chosen to bring a message, homage paid to those that paid the ultimate debt/ I will honor those by taking this flow from
the precipice, of Lex to the apex where the whole globe can see....

Verse3....

I'm a lyrical hybrid John Conner and John Carter, my bars bargain with God to stop war and end the slaughter/ of youth psychologically shackled with a few options, rap bars, sale crack or shoot a ball/ I emerge from all 3 to master one, I unraveled God's gift, to teach with rapid tongue/ and I won't stop going in minds until my soul dies, crush pieces of coal into diamond when my flow rhymes/ I want discuss rap upon Oprah's couch, and spit poems out my mouth even Barack consigns/ our youth hold iron and shoot it like Kobe Bryant, I defuse the violence with music to cue a broken silence/ back in the day we invented cool, nowadays we lose ourselves just to be cool/ knowledge is worth more than a man's weight in gold, I teach my daughters Nefertiti to combat Amber Rose/ cause too many Stuart's is occupying thrones at a ratio, that's crazy plus babies having they own babies it's crazy yo/ the ills of this world will have my little girl giving dome & fellatio in school like Amber Cole/ In a cesspool of lies, the truth is a blessing, Lessons in disguise in the booths my confession/
He rescue my life as a youth I was protected, by the weapons of Christ, renewed in the New Testament....
Track Name: Soul Dreams (Nas tribute)
Devine Carama (Hook)
Soul dreams from a slave born a king, Fertilizing the soil in which we planted a seed/ young kids dream of being an MC, everybody looking for something...

Soul dream from a slave born a queen, single mama in night school getting a college degree/ Strips to pay her bills and take of her seeds, everybody looking for something...

(Verse 1)
The older gods put on the math, stronger than Moses' staff, I went from mental overdraft into folding cash/nothing on my mind but knowledge and wisdom and understand His plan, my options college or go to prison/ or throwing pitches, like baseball, or dope pitching that yay y'all, or a solider militant going AWOL/ my flow relentless, like Mike but I could go the distance, flows precision is right tighter than boa constriction/ hold the mic with soul and wisdom, control the light, by hold the prism to the right until I glow envision/ a bar pattern that God patten, actually a sharpened scalpel or gravity trying to spar with matter/ I need queen with a body badder than Paula Patton, in Greek mythology with the bars they probably call me Atlas/ got the world on my shoulders or maybe Paul Patton, just my state on my delts homie until shells blow me....

(Verse 2)
I'm more a less the one working while the Lord chills, on the sabbath erecting statues with a sword and shield/ Paying homage to past, presently the future, I survived the blood pouring on the battle fields/ I got dreams of conscious rap in the mainstream, where the queens get holla at, while the whores deal/ with lonely nights, and bone me plights by throne Stewart's, I can't stand a hood rat so a lay with a queen/I dream of fountains of Fiji Water that bring youth, a modern Malcom and Martin marching to bring truth/ angelic creatures with African features spitting verses, straight from heaven with a mic & they can sing too/ bunch of L-Boogies bringing me from where hell took me, and my spiritual is throwing up what the devil cooked me/Blood of a slave, soul of king, resurrected our fallen solders, in my soul when I dream....

(Verse 3)
These are the ancient doctrines that scholars honor and prophets written, strategically for glock spitters with no pot to piss in/ I'm John The Baptist to these frauds rapping and cons for cash, I'm strong verbally merge Bob Lashley and Bob Backlund/ bars immaculate like that orange dragon on Avatar, like y'all wings chained or I'm just a crane amongst a flock of chickens/I'm an honest lyricist, nonfiction to you story tellers, you bore me embellish with tales of swelling on blocks and pitching/and see y'all fall for Chanel, ands her short skirt, you thinks it's all swell until you feel that hell and your cock itching/I need a conscious queen that's a left party radical, but when off the Bacardi throws it back just like a lateral/Takes sabbatical on the sabbath, just to attract fools, and once you captured she takes you back to Tabernacle/ plus she never mess with them cowards, and she understand God is the one that gave you that power...
Track Name: White Girl Lost f. Marcus McClinton
Hook
[Devine Carama]
She trying to find her self, and she tired of the games, affected by her mama and grand mama's pain/
A young girl struggling trying to find love, In world full of lies that leads her to lust/ and she's chasing a myth cause she's looking for change, 4 years wasted with nothing to gain/

[Marcus McClinton]
There goes a white girl lost.....

Verse 1
Two parent home, house out in the boondocks, closest she ever came to black folks was watching Boondocks/ privilege white girl third year of college, but she worth a hundred mill she just going for the knowledge/ Her dad was one of the colleges biggest boosters, when the board took a pic it was like a collage of Lucifers/ see sometimes rich folks logic be the craziest, both of her parents were introvert closet racist/ pops eluded she better never bring home a black boy unless he was a ball player then they didn't say shhhhh/ then she start dating the starting power forward, her dad got excited and said cool invite him over/ 3 months past the experiment ran its course, she just wanted to see if he was hung like a horse/ Nah, he was more like a pony, and in 12 weeks she ain't even really get to know him/ so they met at the Starbucks so she could let him go, but it was too late her daddy was paying his car note/ and the team was undefeated, and he averaged a triple double, she envisioned a fling and envisioned a couple/ She just wanted to see if the myth was really true, but he was about to get drafted so he was looking for a new wife/ she had everything that the white world bought, but she still walking around campus a white girl lost.....

Verse 2
Pops left the house, so inside she thought he hate her, her moms had black guys in and out the trailer/
She grew up lusting that dark skin with full lips, plus she love lyrics by dark men with full lips/ plus she felt emboldened by black men leaving their homes for blond hair women skin color of cool whip/She loved his whip old school rims tented, hood swag tatted up plus a snap back vintage/ Yeah.. It's like a lion in a cage, she in awe from the outside but would never get in it/ Nah.. unless she could win it, so she always suck him off, spread her legs, & let him in it/ but to brother that's lost winning is sex so why would he commit when he's already winning/ Self respect lost, now she's become a crutch, confused love & lust, wondering what's enough/ But she figured a brother and disrespect is synonymous, plus that's part of the allure that turned her on with/ the excitement of living the fast life, she a white a girl but don't like brothers that act white/ and what intrigues her is really only half right, the other half is race of royalty once prominent/ all she saw was Mandingo and rap lyrics, and all he saw was a whore just like her mama was...
Track Name: Verbal Shootouts (Nas Tribute)
I swear to God I flow hard, it's hard to stay humble when you mumble better than most artist flow bars/ this rap game is so dark like storm clouds, I rap flames and when I drop albums I glow star/ they be like god chill, I be like nah kneel, I got that modern Rakim the god mixed with that Nas feel/ I rap circles around the planet and only make 2 stops, to Afganistan then Anstredam with a shoe box/ filled with new stock, and 2 glocks, like who shot who popping and who's hotter, your crew not/ music knocking like 2 cops, I'm Tupac drinking two shots of vodca, moving at two knots/

God's verse
Slow down your flesh moving at warp speed, I'm the Lord see you are sowing what your corpse reap/ While your corpse in a morgue deceased, your spirit with Satan or walking thru heavens doors to me/ I gave you that flow so absorb me, so when the engineer pushes play it's should record me/ I gave it to you so I understand you passionate, but saying that you the God well that's blasphemous/ you music that promote anti ratchetness, but you ratchet when you in a room alone with a bad chick/ and the fact is you actually an average rapper, but the fact you mention me in your raps, gets you traffic/ I'm really the God so I'm able see through your tactics, you may have mastered the grammatics of rap but not Ecclessiastics , where your soul going when your body in a casket, I'm talking about eternity and you fixated with this rapping/

Devine's verse
But God this is rapping, and I sparred and battle with classics with those called gods by farad in the math/ this... Is that divine being, lion feasting, iron squeezing dime chiefing, Hine squeezing, rhyme scheming, / I tape two holy grails and boat right through hell, and when it gets to hot command you to blow in my sails

Second Verse

Devine's verse
My verbal mechanics leave you in vertical stances, perched and standing, get served with words like Pete Sampress/ leave you like seed staying up Chirsmas eve with cookies buy the tree, cheesing and waiting to see if he could see Santa/see you like a black capris creeping to see the damage, and I'm that wreck on interstate leaving deceased parents/

See what's the point of painting without a canvas, you rapping without a purpose, I'm confused in what your stance is/ if your going to rep me, with these mic devices, be precise, you can't lift me if you trying to be nicest/

I know and every time i step in the booth i fight this, i want live in your likeness torn between evil and righteousness/ See the youth love beats and hear the lyrics later, I'm like you gay, I'm just playing the instigator/ but I'm fused with intense hatred, when dues play with this music I'm UK and these Christian Latner/ you fools, get out the way, you empeeding my future greatness , 2 seconds on the clock, I refuse your fade away/ it's my ball and going home, I'll come back when y'all acting right retake my crown and throne/ part of me wants to teach the ancient lessons of the master, but the other parts of me wants to be known as the best at this rapping/


God's Verse..
lol.. I'm sorry I mean no disrespect when I'm laughing, but I created you to be a preacher not a rapper/ rapping was suppose to be the platform reach souls , not a platform to free your ego/ you have perverted this gift, into something that self indulgence, you are no better than those with wealth motive/ Devine Carama you could never be the nicest, the lord Jesus Christ just defeated in a cipher