Ayo, the arm bone connected to the hand bone,
Nigga, the hand bone connected to the damn chrome!
Nowadays rap artists coming half-hearted,
Commercial like pop, or underground like black markets.
Where were you the day hip-hop died?
Is it too early to mourn? Is it too late to ride?
So you think that hip-hop had its start out in Queensbridge?
If you popped that junk up in the Bronx, you might not live!
A rap villain: chillin’ and I don’t give a fuck about a killin’ cause I’m still in effect when you’re illin’.
Me and Frosted went to get a drink.
But she ordered somethin’ bugged, and I ain’t know what to think.
She ordered potassium, calcium,
Carbohydrate, scotch with sodium.
She took me to her crib, threw me on the couch…
I woke up the next morning with a spoon in my mouth.
So lovers of life, don’t keep your hopes up high.
Why? Cause it’s just a matter of time before it’s your turn to die.
But until then, when you stop breathin’,
It’s time to stand up and fight for what you believe in!
Fake MC’s – they always act hard
But won’t walk the streets without their bodyguards.
I’m not a sucka, so I don’t need a bodyguard.
Back in the days when I was a teenager,
Before I had status, and before I had a pager,
You could find The Abstract, listening to hip-hop,
My pops used to say it reminded him of be-bop.
I said, ‘Well daddy don’t you know that things go in cycles.
The way that Bobby Brown is just ampin’ like Michael.
It’s all expected, things are for the lookin’,
If you got the money, Quest is for the bookin’.
Rebel, renegade, must stay paid.
L is the rebel type, I’m rough as a metal pipe,
Fuck a Benz, cause I can pull skins on a pedal bike.
Niggas is decaf, I stick ‘em for the C.R.E.A.M.
Rappers can’t sleep, need sleepin’,
B.I.G. keep creepin’,
Casualties need treatin’,
Dumb rappers need teachin’.
Deja vu, tell you what I’m gonna do,
When they reminisce over you, my God.
Stop raising your voice at me,
Stop messing around with my sanity,
Got me in a bubble, I can barely breathe…
Spam ain’t the move it’s imitation ham.
Ham is pork, and the pork is foul.
Kinda like a pig and that ain’t my style.
There oughta be laws against you yappin’ your jaws.
I own the night…the heat’s my receipt.
Niggas running around fantasizing like they’re Peter Pan…
Your life’s a scam and I’mma fuck it up like Neverland.
Your mom’s in our business…she’s in our business…
Can’t you see, girl, that your mom’s trying to end this?
What’s the remedy? Suckaz better get their own identity,
And to the enemy, you better roll like there’s ten of me.
Laugh now, cry later: this is the karma.
Hip-hop never died, it’s just sick of the drama.
Lookin’ out at the world through my window pane,
Every day has many colors ‘cause the glass is stained.
Everything has changed but remains the same,
So once again the mirror raised.
And I see myself as clear as day,
And I am goin’ to the limits of my ultimate destiny,
Feeling as though somebody somewhere is testin’ me.
He who sees the end from the beginning of time
Looking forward through all the ages:
Is, was, and always shall be.
Let me spell my name out for you, it’s Ricky:
R: Ravishing, I: Impress,
C: Courageous or Careless,
K: for the Kangols which I’ve got,
That I wear everyday and Y: Why not?
You could either ignore this advice, or take it from me:
Be too nice, and people take you for a dummy.
Put this in your CD-ROM:
www dot Canibus dot com.
You can find me on the Internet, talkin’ to chicks
That was sweatin’ me off the ‘Music Makes Me High’ remix.
I be talkin’ mad trash, tryin to get ’em to laugh.
See, if I click and drag long enough I’ll get the ass…
I wake you up and as I stare in your face, you seem stunned.
Remember me? The one you got your idea from?
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.