You ain’t a gangsta, you a bitch with a beat.
Rhymefest, “More,” Blue Collar, 2006
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I just want to innovate and stimulate minds,
Travel the world and penetrate the times,
Escape through rhythms,
In search of peace and wisdom.
Blow out your speakers, roll some more loud;
That’s the sound of the reefer, I think my parents is proud.
Thank my fans in the bleachers, think my teachers need features,
I think I’m walking with Jesus, I knew my feet wouldn’t drown.
I hope you get a paper cut on your tongue
From a razor in a paper cup.
I hope every soda you drink’s already shaken up.
I hope your dreams dry like raisins in the baking sun.
I hope your titties’ all saggy in your early 20s.
I hope there’s always snow in your driveway.
I hope you never get off Fridays…
And you work at a Friday’s that’s always busy on Fridays.
I start thinking:
How many souls hip-hop has affected?
How many dead folks this art resurrected?
How many nations this culture connected?
Who am I to judge one’s perspective?
Most rappers these days is actors,
And I can’t keep watching the same movie.
You see, if you ever wanted to ever be anything,
There’d always be somebody that shoot down any dream.
There’ll always be haters, that’s the way it is:
Hater niggas marry hater bitches, and have hater kids.
I’ve been out there 3 days and I got shot at 3 times,
Felt like every bullet hit me when they flew out each 9.
I’ll be happy when I wake up and I have a free mind.
We still wading in the water…
Cocaine, blunts, marinating in the water.
Lean and took a puff, and then she gave it to my father,
Used to take the bullets out so I could play with the revolver.
Satan serenading ever since I was a toddler,
Tell ‘em talk is cheap…niggas living for the dollar.
I be with broads that got they shit together;
Even if it ain’t meant forever, still smoke the spliff together.
The essence of the herbs, the presence of the words…
Yeah you got a chest, but I’m treasurin’ your curves.
What if somebody from the Chi that was ill got a deal on the hottest rap label around?
But he wasn’t talking ‘bout coke and birds, it was more like spoken word,
Except he’s really puttin’ it down.
Even through the unseen, I know that God watches,
From one King’s dream, he was able to Barack us.
I believe in heaven more than hell, lessons more than jail.
In the ghetto, let love prevail with a story to tell.
My eyes see the glory, and well,
The world waiting for me to yell, “I Have A Dream!”
I’m living three dreams:
Biggie Smalls’, Dr. King, Rodney King’s.
Cause we can’t get along, no resolution?
‘Til we drown all these haters…
Rest in peace to Whitney Houston
What’s better than tripping is falling in love.
What’s better than Letterman, Leno, Fallon, and all the above?
What’s better than popping bottles trying to ball in the club?
Is the first caveman pops with his son, ball and a club.
What’s better than paper is balling it up.
What’s better than followers is actually falling in love.
What’s better than frolicking, follies, fallin in mud?
Rolling in green pastures, wandering, following love.
What’s better than eating is feeding your fam.
What’s better than meetings is missing meetings to meet with your fam.
What’s better than leaning and needing your Xan?
Is hitting your zan dreaming a dream could mean leaving the land.
What’s better than yelling is hollering love.
What’s better than rhymes, nickles, dimes, dollars, and dubs?
Is dialing up your darling just for calling her up.
There ain’t nothing better than falling in love.
It seem like everybody dress tight now,
And I just want my credit.
‘What you doing in the club on a Thursday?’
She say she only here for her girl birthday…
They ordered champagne but still look thirsty,
Rock Forever 21 but just turned 30.
I wonder if these wack niggas realize they wack,
And they the reason that my people say they tired of rap.
I could let these dream killers kill my self-esteem,
Or use my arrogance as the steam to power my dreams.
I use it as my gas, so they say that I’m gassed,
But without it I’d be last, so I ought to laugh…
Never looking back or too far in front of me,
The present is a gift, and I just want to Be.
I don’t know what’s better: getting laid or getting paid.
I just know when I’m getting one, the other’s getting away.
Time is real, we can’t rewind it…
Out of everybody I met, who told the truth?
You know that one auntie, you don’t wanna be rude,
…But every holiday, nobody eatin’ her food.
I love black thighs, you sisters better realize
That real hair and real eyes get real guys.
So before you makeup your face, you better make up your mind…
Went from most hated to the Champion God Flow,
I guess that’s a feelin’ only me and LeBron know.
‘You Hollywood.’ Nah, nigga, I’m Chicago.
So I cracked his head with a muthafuckin bottle.