The Alchemist - Lossless

I heard they doin' scores on the writer
War on the rise, if you sure it wasn't like us
Born in the plight, we was torn from the right stuff
And floored by the prize, so my core was unrighteous
Matured to abide, cry for more when the night hit
It's sword to the sky, then it poured on the island
What's behind the door, is it solid?
The sureness in mind, of course it be silent
You sure to find, of course it be violence