Infrareds on little people standing with some big heads,
I was Captain Kirk, walkin’ with a black t-shirt.
LAPD, the nurse asked did my knee hurt?
I was in pain, little Martians tryin’ ta take my brain,
Hospitals came, detectives wrote down my name.
I was to blame, my life never been the same.
A true story; I tell ya, it’ll never bore me.
My classmate died, my other friend named Cory
Drinkin’ 40s, he jumped out the project window,
Stabbed himself with a yellow number 2 pencil.
Friends: how many have ‘em?
How long before they split like atoms?
Don’t ask me, but what I do stand behind
Is someone havin’ your back seems hard to find.
Shorty, let me tell you about my only vice:
It has to do with lots of lovin’, and it ain’t nuttin’ nice.
I don’t respect killers, I respect O.G. knowledge,
Codes of the streets got new rules, but no guidance.
Lessons, detrimental to a young disciple;
Folks, take care of your brothers, niggas do as I do.
Keep your enemies close, where they can see you.
It’s not your enemy who get you, it’s always your own people.
I am the manifestation of study,
NOT the manifestation of money.
Therefore, I advance through thought,
NOT what’s manufactured and bought.
…Cops just surrounding me with pistols everywhere.
They put me in the backseat of their car handcuffed,
Pushed out them chests like they’re big rough and tough.
A cop come and said ‘You’ll never sell your guns now.’
I said ‘It doesn’t matter, you’ll sell them anyhow.
You take the guns from me, you sell them for a fee;
Anyway you put it, they’ll get in the city!’
You pout like a trout in a drought…can’t get out.
You want to scream, but fish can’t shout.
Yo, where the teachers went, with all that pro-black shit?
Where all the conscious niggas, who used to chat like this?
See, I remember yesterday when y’all was Gods and Earths,
Egyptians and metaphysicists on the verge of giving birth
To Understanding, and planting seeds that grow.
Now everybody’s on that bullshit about killing and so.
I was always taught my do’s and don’ts:
For do’s I did, and for don’ts, I said I won’t.
A prejudiced man is of a devil mentality.
These are words of a wise man, wisdom;
Take a taste and erase the racism.
I seen her in the subway, on my way to Brooklyn.
“Hello, good lookin, is this seat tooken?”
On the A Train, pickin at her brain,
I couldn’t get her number, I couldn’t get her name.
I said, “I still like your style and fashion,
But I hate your hot sadiddy attitude wit a passion.
Is it because brothers like to hawk a lot?
Is it because your sign don’t talk a lot?”
She turned away, no play, I said, “OK,
You don’t really look good, I hope you have a bad day.”
Don’t you like when the winter’s gone,
And all of a sudden it starts gettin’ warm?
The trees and the grass start lookin’ fresh,
And the sun and sky be lookin’ their best…
Look: if I shoot you, I’m brainless,
But if you shoot me, then you’re famous.
What’s a nigga to do?
The poor get worked, the rich get richer,
The world gets worse, do you get the picture?
The poor gets dead, the rich get depressed,
The ugly get mad, the pretty get stressed.
The ugly get violent, the pretty get gone,
The old get stiff, the young get stepped on.
Whoever told you that “it was all good” lied,
So throw your fists up if you not satisfied.
Truth had me up against the ropes
And semi-conscious without no boxing skills.
Brothers ain’t half-steppin…they’re walking backwards.
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.
Some girls barely speak, but always askin’ for a dollar.
Lyrics are weak, like clock radio speakers.
…And Sunday’s the one day I rest, give thanks, and bless.
Educated: no. Stupid: yes.
And when I say “stupid,” I mean stupid fresh.
New York, New York, big city of dreams,
Where there’s nothing but foreign cars, bitches, and triple beams.
How can polar bears swing on vines with the gorillas?
I like ‘em brown, yellow, Puerto Rican or Haitian.
We speak the love language, they speak from pain and anguish.
Some don’t love theyselves, so they perception is tainted.
Too many MC’s take that word ‘emcee’ lightly;
They can’t Move a Crowd, not even slightly.
I got styles sick as hell, sicker than sickle cell anemia,
Slaughter your circulatory like leukemia.
Ain’t no love lost, cause there was never none there.
I’d rather die enormous than live dormant.
Flawless victory, y’all niggas can’t do shit to me:
Physically, lyrically, hypothetically, realistically.
Fuck Batman and Robin: I’m robbin’ with a bat, man.
When I hit the skins they all say, ‘Damn Kane…
You knock out the Bush like a presidential campaign!’
The mind tricks the body,
Body thinks the mind is crazy…
I don’t feel pain cause it’s all in the mind,
And what’s mines is mines and yours is mine!
I never ever ran from the Ku Klux Klan, and I shouldn’t have to run from a black man.
I find it’s distressin’, there’s never no in-between:
We either niggaz or kings,
We either bitches or queens.
The deadly ritual seems immersed in the perverse,
Full of short attention spans, short tempers, and short skirts.
When I need bread, I grab the toaster and stick niggas for they crumbs.
They say jealousy is a serious disease.
So I’mma say a prayer for you dudes,
Hope you motherfuckers get well soon.
You got a man? That’s somethin we will talk about.
He’s smart enough to have ya, but dumb enough to let ya out.
Pull down the shades on the windows of your soul,
And gaze into your mind and watch the wisdom unfold…
If you can’t respect that, your whole perspective is wack.
Maybe you’ll love me when I fade to black.
Your simple words just don’t move me…
You’re minor, we major.
You all up in the game and don’t deserve to be a player.
These ante meridiem cats, insomniacs…
Four in the mornin’ we throwin back some Cognac juice.
I used to be in love with this bitch named E&J,
Don’t fuck with her no more, now I fuck with Tanqueray.
Tanqueray introduced me to her first cousin Gold,
Last name was English and the first name Olde.
You not cut from the same cloth, you chinchilla soft,
I’m Brillo Pad coarse…take your skin off.
You rub me the wrong way,
You a suit and tie nigga…P hoodie all day.
Take these words home and think it through;
Or the next rhyme I write might be about you.
I got lots of love for my crew, that is;
No love for them other crews and rival kids.
All them out-of-town niggas know what time it is,
And if they don’t? They need to buy a watch, word up.