I’m not sure why I’m infatuated with death.
My imagination is surely an aggravation of threats
that can come about ’cause the tongue is mighty powerful.
And I can name a list of your favorites that probably vouch.
Maybe ’cause I’m a dreamer and sleep is the cousin of death.
I Feel Like I’m Losin’ My Focus, I Feel Like I’m Losin’ My Patience, I Feel Like My Thoughts In The Basement
Now I was raised in a sandbox, next to you and her.
You was holding the handgun, she was giving birth,
To a baby boy to be just like you, I wonder what that’s worth.
My Résumé Is Real Enough For Two Millenniums
Get it all, you deserve it Kendrick,
And when you get the White House, do you.
But remember, you ain’t pass economics in school.
And everything you buy, taxes will deny.
I’ll Wesley Snipe your ass before thirty-five
I Feel Like Debated On Who The Greatest Can Stop It, I Am Legend, I Feel Like All Of Y’all Is Peasants, I Feel Like All Of Y’all Is Desperate, I Feel Like All It Take Is A Second To Feel Like Mike Jordan Whenever Holdin’ A Real Mic
Would you say my intelligence now is great relief?
And it’s safe to say that our next generation maybe can sleep
With dreams of being a lawyer or doctor
Instead of boy with a chopper that hold the cul de sac hostage
Hell-Raising, Wheel-Chasing, New Worldly Possessions Flesh-Making, Spirit-Breaking, Which One Would You Lessen?
This plot is bigger than me, it’s generational hatred
It’s genocism, it’s grimy, little justification
I’m African-American, I’m African
I’m black as the heart of a fuckin’ Aryan
I’m black as the name of Tyrone and Dareous
So Give Me A Run For My Money, Sipping Bubbly, Feeling Lovely, Living Lovely