But really I’m sick of rapping
But really I miss the passion
You feel me, I miss the scene
You film me, I miss the action
I miss touring, miss America, miss the pageant
I’m still married to that dame
Though the game is Mrs. Jackson to me
Rappers love talking this epic
When we talk of our exit from showbiz
And nobody noticed we left it
Was hedging bets at the school of Texas
Holding Rolexes and Lexuses just a second, I got a test
But I’m blessed, I got to live and learn
Literally, did a term then went to getting earn
Urn, just let it burn
Words like a grow-op
No, I don’t mean grow pot
I mean gettin' that dope tho
I still gotta grow lots
Live real stories, grow plots
They wanna mow crops
And grow guap and find some botox robots to co-op
But y'all know me, don’t stop!
I just go off
I stay on point for the heads
This cut’s a mohawk, uh
For heads that’s headstrong, uh
And head with dreads on and white corn rows
Although that’s dead wrong
But listen, this is all inclusive
For all humans, just for y'all amusement
Music for the blue-collared dudes and all the college students
I’m Paul Wall in ‘05 and I’m car pollution and I’m James Harden hoopin'
All meanin’ I’m a problem Houston
A constant nuisance, I cause confusion
Hold on this song’s long as the constitution
Its just I got a lot of thoughts that are hard to explain
I’m trying to try a little tender but I’m hard in the brain
Hard headed thoughts darkened and charred in the flame
I’m talking black, pardon the slang
But the flame is like Flocka
Young man always gotta go hard in the paint
We talk foul on offensive, they call charge in the game
But even activists targeting Targets and chain stores
They get chained to the same war, same arms taking aim
Arm leg leg arm head, we all are the same
One race, feeling safe when we start in our lanes
On our march til' that gun spark
Reminds us of young scars
And makes us all start to run, far from the pain
So we take off and we hide and we harbor the shame
And as we grow older
Damn, it only gets harder to change
It’s getting heavy
I don’t wanna let my people down
I’ll fight the evil within until I’m beneath the ground
Sleeping sound, that’s my deepest vow
Til I take my deepest bow
I’ll keep reaching out through these speakers
Now Gary told me my album should be called “Food Court"
‘Cause I only talk about food, justice, and hoop scores
Put on my Jordan’s this morning without a shoehorn
Played a couple games, then debated the use of brute force
Versus new forms of abuse to make us produce more
Over-cold pizza and a lukewarm 2-4
The poor gotta eat, so like first ball we shoot for it
I’m just trying to remember that life is too short
Every second’s precious
Lets stay up like due north of New York
Where my homegirl’s trying to quit with the Newports
And my dude’s trying to keep the food portions down to two courses
I’m trying to build with a lady
And maybe move towards forming a team
That’s my last reference to sports
I promise I’m through these women are gettin’ too bored
Callin' this dude-core
(hold-on, unh, just keep it going)
Yea, now the last time i was rocking this
I was rocking a diamond tee
Rhyming like Rawkus would sign him
But dreaming of rocking that diamond — Rocafella -
Before Barack was presiding over the oval office to go to Iraq
I was grindin' an I still love it
Up in front of the public
Juggling subjects in couplets
Its funny my stomach plummets
Right before every time
But I’m fine once them drums hit
Drum sticks in buckets
Backstage with subway Subwiches
Man I’m lucky as what
This what I do for the ducats
No soul sucking for paystubs I’m nobody’s puppet
Now I’m buzzin cause this stuff is in my blood like an IV
But just ‘cause I love it it’s not my ID
I mean I’m wrapped in these rhyme schemes
And I rap to define me but, rap doesn’t define me
Trust that I’ll be fine when the shine leaves
Dudes used to say, "would you rhyme please?!"
They had to push me to start like they couldn’t find keys
Now I’m regarded the most rewinded Rwandese
London-born but not that one renowned for the grime scene
(unh, yea)
I’m sending this one to my fam and my old friends
And fans that follow all the tweets that I don’t send
My man G is on the net — no goaltend
My plan B, I just left ‘cause I goes in
I’m into 30 for 30 docs and 30 Rock
Why? Cuz I’m 30 and cuz I’m kinda of a nerdy jock
I remember before Jigga made 30 hot
And I still front on Justin a little cuz of that dirty pop
I had CeeLo on cassette back when he would rap
Sittin' up in my room with that Moesha track
That was back when North America made cars
Now inner cities look like outer space — we only make stars
I remember we didn’t care when we ate carbs
I remember dreaming of that day when we would take charge
I’m seein' the seeds of future change right now in the present
As we work in our fields here grounding the message in real life lessons
Getting right down to the essence
Then we water that like a fountain when we’re counting our blessings
Sharing the hope of our hearts and the doubts and the questions
See the seeds sprout into trees that leave thousands of fresh ones
Haven’t got there yet but I’ve found some direction
I’m not a catholic but these tracks is the sound of confession
It’s like I said ‘em then heaven sent down a postcard
Over a large ocean of doubt via coast guardian angel
Just sayin’ we’re ok -
We’ve all broke hearts, groped parts
Fought and hurt, drank and smoked darts
We’re all victims, we’re all innocent, no charge
You’re free to be who you are, now go and don’t harm
The world is so starved for you being unique
That’s cliche but it often is with the truth, see
It’s nothing too deep and it’s nothing new
We all knew it as youth,
Seems we just forgot as soon as we grew a few feet…
That’s why I like to say remember to remember
That’s why I like to play my fingers on that Fender
And that’s why I write and play to try to find the light of day
In these dark winter nights and bravely bring it to the centre
Still some say it’s hood nonsense, no good conscience
They got it twisted, it’s hood conscious and good nonsense
But check the comments, some supporters got enough hate
My fans don’t post "I love Shad”, they just say “F*** Drake"
I got no problems with Drizzy of course
And I’m not vexed I can’t cop what Drizzy affords, I’m all good
I even got to give to the poor
and T.O. knows I’m like a Benz in this city of Fords (Rob)…
I’m thinking they’re bored with the backpacking
Like, "is he done yet?"
They waiting on that hit like Phil Collins with the drum set
In the air tonight I’m heavy as two tonnes
Heads sleeping on the kid
I’m breaking down they bunk beds
And raising hell like Rev Run said
Watch him stalk his prey and walk this way slow as the undead
I keep it 100 ‘til sunset
Till there’s not one breath in my lungs left
The undisputed number one-esque
Nah, this is a new act called sinner and saint
Where the singer covers inner pain with glitter and paint
And delivers his statements with wit and with vigour and haste
They say entertainer’s like Cedric ‘cept thinner and great…
I’m playing, I’m not a comedy king
Obviously rap fathered me sorta like Pop’s rap on Common’s Be
My policy’s quality over quantity, real — ahh, hm
(heh, hah! almost had it, almost had it)
My policy’s quality over quantity
Real girls over drama queens
Real world over college dean philosophy
Honesty over shock
Real thoughts over knocking beats
Real talk…
It’s over when I drop the beat