Why did one straw break the camel’s back?
Here’s the secret:
The million other straws underneath it.
This is for my bitches in the shelters that don’t need shelter, you just doin’ that shit for a crib.
And all my bad little bitches, when your baby father hits you, stick a ice cold knife in his ribs.
And all my bitches pimp the system, get your WIC, tell your workers, “Fuck that,” you gon’ have more kids.
And you ain’t have ‘em cause you need ’em, but now you gotta feed em, so you figure that your ass gon’ strip.
I’d rather make one righteous dollar on my level
Than make a million dollars spittin’ rhymes for the devil.
When I hit the bong
I’m Godzilla takin’ over Hong Kong
Eatin’ wonton with a shotgun in long johns.
Through the fame, through the fire and the flames,
I adapt to the pain, real niggas do the same.
And though we homies and we no longer hang
You know you know me, and that love still remains.
Save your wack rhymes, hold your female.
Pass the Old Gold, trash the ale.
Cash your food stamps, get the WIC out the mail.
Love to eat shrimps, but I never eat snail,
Eat a whole fish except for the tail.
Keep food in the fridge so it don’t get stale,
And when there’s nothing to eat…I bite my nails.
A thug changes, and love changes,
And best friends become strangers.
Haters wanna ball, let me tighten up my draw string.
Wrong sport, boy, you know you’re as soft as a lacrosse team.
Working hard may help you maintain,
To learn to overcome the heartaches and pain.
Tried to put shame in my game to make a name,
I’mma put it on a bullet…put it in your brain.
I’m livin’ in times where my daughters are found around
Kids who can’t afford thinking caps…
But always found drinkin’ raps and eatin’ off beats,
Claimin’ laws of the streets. But who made the laws?
Everybody playin’ rebel with no sign of a cause.
Once I slapped a rapper with mace,
Then I spit acid in his face, after he rinsed his eyes, no wait…
I actually grew five times my size, grabbed Ma$e by the thigh and slapped a rapper with him.
These days you can’t see who’s in cahoots,
Cause now the KKK wears three-piece suits.
I’m on some tax-free shit by any means,
Whether bound to hit scheme or some counterfeit C.R.E.A.M.
Cocaine trafficking, your boy’s back again,
Moving bricks like I got a degree in scaffolding.
Fucking with some cats from Newark…half of them Jewish,
Cool white boys riding around, blasting my music,
And I’m taxin’ them like Jackson-Hewitt.
Hip-hop started on the block;
I fell asleep at the wheel, the shit crashed into Pop.
It’s like I’m married to the silencer,
Until I file for divorce and release my ex-calibers.
Do art with your arteries, place that for my adversaries,
Put your snap back cap back, cap your capillaries.
Could hate a person, but in fact it’s not worth it.
Never know how long you’ve got on this earth, kid.
Question religion, question it all,
Question existence until them questions are solved.
There’s four sides to every story…
If these walls could talk, they’d probably still ignore me.
Brooklyn: the home of the black and the beautiful.
For a rough rap sound, ain’t a place more suitable.
If you ain’t using all the talents God provided you with
For the betterment of Man, understand,
You ain’t nothing but a waste.
Whatcha gonna do to this?
You may be older than me, but you’re new to this.
Cause I been out there, queen of MC’s,
When your man was walkin’ round in mocknecks and Lee’s.
While you were over here perpetratin’ a fraud,
I was overseas on the charts with Boy George.
You’re the beginner, Shante’s the winner,
Havin’ other competition for dinner.
Sit you on the table with a plate and cup,
Say grace…and then eat your ass up.
Sorry, Mrs. Drizzy, for so much art talk;
Silly me rappin’ ‘bout shit that I really bought.
While these rappers rap about guns they ain’t shot,
And a bunch of other silly shit that they ain’t got.
I never boned a honey that I didn’t like,
I never saw a mile that I couldn’t hike.
I never had a spliff to make me choke,
I never had a pocket that was broke.
Unpredictable, liable to flip my lid…
My moms dropped me on my head when I was a kid.
Back then I lost all my marbles, today I lost my job,
So in essence, it’s Armageddon, somebody’s bound to get robbed!
Real niggaz represent and don’t die,
Never dead, like I said, all we fuckin’ do is multiply.
It seems to me like all these people claim to be the victim,
Acting like the whole entire world is out to get them.
Stand up on your own,
And prove that you are grown,
Because the life that you save may be your own.
Why is the world round?
Why do the suckas bite?
Why do the freaks come out at night?
Why they paint Jesus white?
I sit and wonder why we breakin hip-hop laws,
Doing videos in houses that we know ain’t yours.
On the real, fuck your opinion.
I made it this far, and you broke.
I be tossin’, enforcin’, my style is awesome.
I’m causin’ more Family Feuds than Richard Dawson.
And the survey said: “You’re dead.”
Fatal Flying Guillotine chops off your fuckin’ head!
I am recognizing that the voice inside my head
Is urging me to be myself, but never follow someone else
Because opinions are like voices, we all have a different kind.
First I snatched the streets, then I snatched the charts.
First I had they ear, now I have their heart.
Rappers came and went…I’ve been here from the start.
I seen them put it together, watched them take it apart.
Just ‘cause you got money don’t mean you made it.
Just ’cause you make it, don’t give you the right to be on that fake shit.
Bullets ain’t racial, kid…they only hate you.
I clock G’s while you clock Z’s.
And I don’t smoke crack…I smoke MC’s.
I came in the door, I said it before
I never let the mic magnetize me no more.
But it’s biting me, fighting me, inviting me to rhyme,
I can’t hold it back…I’m looking for the line.
Taking off my coat, clearing my throat,
My rhyme will be kicking until I hit my last note.
My mind’s my 9, my pen’s my Mac-10.
My target? All you wack niggaz who started rappin’.
Two wrongs don’t make it right, but it damn sure makes us even.
My old soul remains forever young…
I’ve done it all, and still I’m doing shit that I ain’t ever done.
See, it depends on your definition of winning;
I ain’t started from the bottom, I started from the beginning.
Who gives a fuck about a goddamn Grammy?
The motto goes: Sex, Drugs and Rock ‘n’ Roll.
I prefer: Love, Hugs and Hip-Hop Soul.
I got a lot of things to do, a lot of money to make;
I got no time for you and all the moves you fake.
Life is full of stress and it wrecks my brain,
So I puff the buddha bless and destroy the pain.
Of course I’m funky like fat people having intercourse.
Basically, the funk is stuck in your teeth…so get the dental floss.
Got more milky syllables than alphabet cereals.
Play the game for my people, stay in charge of your dreams.
Keep your vision focused, get wise, and largen your C.R.E.A.M.
I play chess, but my past is checkered,
The mic and I are like staff and shepherd.
You better recognize, adjust your bifocals;
Your style is local…I sit on the beach in Acapulco.
I put words together like Peter Jennings,
And skate on motherfuckers like Peggy Fleming.
Question: Why is that MC’s be wack
And major labels wanna sign that crap?
Fuck movin’ mountains, I move planets and leave you Earthless.
Terror Squad: the worst that hurt shit, split your universes.
I can’t relate to livin’ less than great.
Funny how things change when you got a liquor in ya:
You’re quicker with the tongue, givin’ me rhythm now.
Block the music and the people out to admire the love,
The nerve of us…impervious to the entire club.
And like marijuana shotguns, let’s blow this joint,
It’s pointless to stay here, so let me anoint.
Crazy frustration, about my lovin situation;
When patience was a virtue…but I wasn’t used to waitin.
Take a sip from the cup of death…
And when you’re shaking my right hand, I’ll stab you with the left.
If you don’t got endz, you won’t be gettin’ no skinz,
And if you don’t got money, you won’t scoop a honey.
If you don’t got cash, you won’t be gettin’ no ass,
And if you don’t got loot, you won’t be knockin’ no boots.
Niggas out here buyin’ hoes bags n’ shoes,
But couldn’t buy their kid a new coat for school?
You’re living up in Heaven, but I know you’re mad as Hell.
All I need is one life, one try, one breath, I’m one man.
What I stand for speaks for itself…they don’t understand.
I’ve been to college, but to be truthfully frank:
Weed is knowledge, cause it makes me think.
Lyrical lecture, word architecture,
Rap director, the best in my sector.
Microphone cool chief, releasin the smooth speech…
I get nasty with a pen and some loose leaf.
I got beef with commercial-ass niggas with gold teeth
Lampin’ in a Lexus eatin’ beef.
A born terror, a rebel without a pause…
Ain’t never had a good Christmas, so who is Santa Claus?
Americanomics works, and I won’t argue that is true.
But if the economy is getting better, getting better for who?
Well, if you ask me, I’m doing much worse than before,
With the welfare cuts, I don’t eat no more.
So if I did wanna go out, I couldn’t go nowhere,
Cause I ate every last one of them reindeer.
Rudolph first, I went down the list,
I got so hungry, I just couldn’t resist.
I ate Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Dixon,
Fried them up and then started to mix them.
And before you knew it, they were all gone,
I wonder what y’all gonna do about my reindeer song!
It was December 24th on Hollis Ave. in the dark,
When I see a man chilling with his dog in the park.
I approached very slowly with my heart full of fear,
Looked at his dog, oh my God, an ill reindeer!
But then I was illin’ because the man had a beard,
And a bag full of goodies, 12 o’clock had neared.
So I turned my head a second and the man had gone,
But he left his driver’s wallet smack dead on the lawn.
I picked the wallet up, then I took a pause…
Took out the license and it cold said ‘Santa Claus!’
White Jesus in my crock pot,
I mix the shit with some soda.
Now Black Jesus turn water to wine,
…And all I had to do was turn the stove up.
I know you don’t wanna hear my opinion,
There come many paths and you must choose one.
And if you don’t change then the rain soon come.
See, you might win some, but you just lost one.
Fuck a moment of silence…I need a moment of violence.
God gave us music, so we play with our words.
MC’s they retreat cause they know I can beat ‘em,
And eat ’em in a battle and the ref won’t cheat ’em.
I’m the best takin’ out all rookies,
So forget Oreos…eat Cool J cookies.
Complainin’ to my lawyer how this rookie tried to frisk me…
Jealous of my jeep, I gave his badge to the chief,
And got his ass directin’ traffic in the heat for a week.
I get a craving like I fiend for nicotine.
But I don’t need a cigarette, know what I mean?
Elvis was a hero to most,
But he never meant shit to me, you see.
Straight up racist that sucker was,
Simple and plain…
Motherfuck him AND John Wayne.
Do the math: You never settle for less than the whole if you knew the half.
From open mics to solutions, I got a collage of answers,
And a 10-point program, just like the Black Panthers:
1: First, respect yourself as an artist
If you don’t respect yourself, then your rhymes is garbage.
2: Make sure your crew is as tight as you
Cause when them niggaz fallin off, they gonna bring you down too.
3: Understand the meaning of MC
The power to Move the Crowd like Moses split the seas.
4: Know your shit and don’t ever be blunted
If you don’t know what your words mean, then your rhymes mean nothin.
5: Kick facts in the raps, and curse with clarity
What’s a curse when language is immersed in vulgarity?
6: We gonna fix industrial poli-tricks
Shit, they made an art form out of ridin dicks.
7: We soldiers for God needin new recruits
So if you rhymin for the loot, then you’s a prostitute.
8: Acknowledge that you need food on your plate
In order to say your grace, make sure your business is straight.
9: We buildin black minds with intelligence
And when you freestyle, keep the subject matter relevant.
10: Every MC grab a pen
And write some conscious lyrics to tell the children.
I’m real good at troubleshooting;
When there’s trouble…I start shooting.
Up against Goliath, to bring butter home.
I’m David on pavement, sling another stone.
I only drink Cristal, or Imperial Moet,
No more weak ass Rose, that’s why the game too sweet.
We don’t wear tight ass clothes, we don’t do down South beats,
That ain’t New York–I restore our identification,
‘Cause dick-riding never been a form of transportation.
A wise man sees failure as progress.
A fool divorces his knowledge and misses the logic,
And loses his soul in the process.
Shawn Carter was born December 4th,
Weighing in at 10 pounds, 8 ounces.
He was the last of my 4 children,
The only one who didn’t give me any pain when I gave birth to him.
…And that’s how I knew that he was a special child.
Never we sleep, a thug doesn’t rest,
Cause a wise man said: it was a cousin of death.
I never sleep, ‘cause sleep is the cousin of death.
Brain cells are lit, ideas start to hit,
Next the formation of words that fit.
At the table I sit, making it legit,
And when my pen hits the paper…ahhhh shit!
Let’s pretend we’re both guns, and make this shit erratic:
I’ll be the revolver, you can play the automatic.
Automatic flip scripts, revolver show loyalty.
Each gun is die-able, but only one’s reliable.
You shoot fast, but in the end you jam,
Then I click back, and turn your brains into spam.
You gotta understand: I’m a man with needs that needs fulfilling.
And if you ain’t with it, somebody else is willing.
I got the gangsta in me, plus I’m not friendly
To a bitch-ass whose mouth runs more laps than the Indy.
Cats be talkin’, “Bobby I ain’t feelin’ ya.”
But I bet if I was peelin’ your cap back with a two-shot Dillinger
Hot lead released from my cylinder,
You’d be talkin’ ‘bout, “Bobby I’m feelin’ ya!”
The world is kinda cold and the rhythm is my blanket.
I hate The Police so much I’d probably assassinate Sting,
My System of a Down Rages Against the Machine.
Tie you up in a Slipknot and hold Alice In Chains inside her dreams.
You thought your shit was fly, but the flight was delayed.
Life is like a box of chocolates, you fill your body with toxins,
And amoxicillin and penicillin to cure your illness.
But in realness? These medical companies will get you monthly
Prescribing me pills that make me ill, just to comfort me.
Dutch in my ear, Olde E in my palm,
I Freddy Krueger your face, Michael Myers your moms.
You botherin mine? That’s when I’m sparkin the nine.
Believers of Jesus be denouncing Satan on every level,
But every Halloween they’re dressin’ like devils.
Feeling mad hostile, wearing Aéropostale,
Flowing like Christ when I speaks the gospel.
War’s extremely serious and it saddens me.
It’s all love, but love’s got a thin line
And Pun’s got a big nine,
Respect crime…but not when it reflect mine.
Commentating, illustrating, description-giving
Adjective expert. Analyzing, surmising,
Musical, myth-seeking people of the universe…
This is yours!
We ain’t speak, clicking heat is our Morse code.
I never fronted, you can get it if you want it…
Won’t say I’m the best, but I’m not that far from it.