Verse 1:

We taint the air with idle words

Cause sticks and stones hurt the most

What’s a jab to the bird?

What’s a duel to a roast?

Shoot….  

 

These cats ask to “bring it back”

Don’t even know they history

Fail to pass the class of ‘Lu’

Cause you ain’t really listening

 

Trigger habits till they status rap automatic

Girl’s a “bitch”, “ho”, “trick” though bro, no silly rabbits

And I am just a “nigga.”

Defined by the lines of Jigga, ‘Ye, Wayne, Pain

and all these influential figures

 

All these figures, stats, that ain’t even logistics

We don’t sit in school, we just kick the ballistics

College? Wouldn’t risk it - knowledge? Yo we miss this

Married to the game then tell me when you get a mistress?

 

When did hustle hard become the one legitimate business?

And if I insist this list’s apparent, they ask me who its kids is

If ignorance is bliss, then stupidity is a gift

And these clowns walk around grinning like it’s Christmas

 

Refrain:

Hear me well, as my soul’s music flows forth

I hear you playin’, I ain’t dealin’ with the same chords

 

Verse 2:

Cause we rap fast, act bad

Exploit our misery

That’s sad, we Glad bag

cash on illogies

I ain’t tryna preach

but what I hear sometimes be killin me

and I ain’t from the streets

doesn’t mean I can’t be killin beats

My 2 cents free, though they both worth a milli G

Talking Gran, not dollars, beg your pardon, sorry, silly me

 

I don’t understand, why we perpetuate the negative

That’s your story? Word, though it’s working like a sedative

I know you keep it real but that theme just gets repetitive

Groupies, high, riches, sigh, the good life, I bet it is

 

Lil' man just 10, the oldest of like 7 kids

Hear this all the time, makes it ‘mines’ - bought, now sellin it

Gotta focus on the grind, spittin' rhymes, gettin' dimes

Black male (blackmail), image blind, get it in or sit behind

Thicker lines - bars

Multiplied several times, now you are

Seeing what I’m speaking just what’s in my mind

 

Refrain

 

Verse 3:

Let the words from the mic, fill you with stereotypes

Leave the schema in the scene bruh, that look is what they like

And that sound becomes our sights, these notes fit just right

Don’t change a god dang thing, stay boxed in real tight

 

You see these cats on the screen, that’s who you wanna be

You can act like, talk like, dress like he

Cause hey they gettin' money, we can’t hate on green

It’s our favorite color and it don’t grow on trees

 

Oh.

 

You know what I mean, get the bread get the cheese

We can fill a Deli, and then we do as we please

No one can hold me down, less you pull on my strings

Just a puppet for the label, the industry, cable

Holding true to fallacies when the news ain’t really able

Let these kids imitate us, think our lives are all stable

 

Progress the degradation of a strong proud culture

Thought remains segregated conscious corpse for the vultures…

 

Refrain