Mental energy from within keeps me higher,
Than anything rolled and set on fire
How many rappers in the game have “little” in front of their name?
Lil’ Wayne, Lil’ Boosie it’s a lil’ shame
Lil’ Flip, Lil’ Cease, yo they not the same
Lil’ Wyte, Lil’ Mama, where Lil’ Zane?
Little Brother, Lil’ Jon, and Lil’ Fame
Real hip hop, not about your lil’ chain
Lil’ Keke, Lil’ Kim a lil’ freaky
Lil’ Fizz, Illegal with Lil’ Maliky
Lil’ Mo, Lil’ Bow Wow had beef with Lil’ Romeo
A lil’ teenager told me so…
If wonder if I blasted a little Elvis Presley.
Would they pull me over and attempt to arrest me?
I doubt, doubt it, they’ll probably start dancin,
Jumpin on my dick and pissin in they pants and
Wiggle and then jiggle and grab on they pelvis
But you know my name, so you never hear no Elvis.
Penny for your thoughts, a nickel for your dreams
A dime for your goals and a quarter in your jeans
Trying to make a dollar outta forty-one cents
Caught up in the barbed wire, shorty on the fence
– Masta Ace, “Young Black Intelligent (Y.B.I.),” The Falling Season, 2016
In my heart, though, I do believe:
If you put out more love than you receive,
It’s bound to come back around, eventually.
Black boy, black boy, turn that shit down.
You know that America don’t wanna hear the sound
Of the bass drum jungle music, go back to Africa,
Nigga I’ll arrest ya if you’re holding up traffic.
I’ll be damned if I listen, so cops save your breath
And write another ticket if you have any left.
And I’m breaking eardrums while I’m breaking the law,
I’m disturbing all the peace cause Sister Soldier said ‘War!’
So catch me if you can, if you can, here’s a donut,
Cause once you drive away, yo, you know I’m gonna go nuts.
And turn it up to where it was before, nice try!
But you can’t stop the power of the bass in your eye.
I’m surrounded by psychopathic little fellas,
Ghetto dwellas, with ammunition in their cellas,
And no remorse in their hearts
When the shit starts it don’t end…
Until somebody’s gone with the wind.
My limo driver’s white, my attorney black…
‘Show me some love’ like I’m Bernie Mac.
We got it on lock like Barack got the nomination
Braniac dumb-dumbs, bust the scientifical,
Approach to the course and the force is centrifugal.
Can you find your way through the lyrics that be catchin’ ‘em?
Throw another rhyme across the room, they be fetchin’ ’em.
This country of ours was built on violence;
If your ass got in the way, you was killed in silence.
And these been the ways since back in the days:
Just ask the Indians or the African slaves.