Under the Bridge

lick the octopuss

if you dare

Watergate is small-time

Virusgate swallows all–

–o vera crazy shit

house arrested on the street named after a dead president

mouse-infested too high heated blamed actor’s head hustle bitch

overnights for $13/hr–fuck off. But I may have to.

Git in the dirt and sweat and flirt until the last two

minutes of the game, put the best to shame in another time frame

rotting ice cream refrozen cookies and cream it’s unseem-ly

I run the race at my pace and finish my dreamin team’s fee

wash off the dirt after the affair

replace the sweat with hot suds, wash your hair

jump down turn around pick a bale of cotton

hump brown burn the ground trick the mailman to Batman’s Robin

and smile too, buddy, God is watching

and lawd it’s rockin’

 

 

 

 

Blind Pig

the war of 1984 was over before it began,

won by AI facial recognition ivory tower golden showers

Trump’s White House with a swamp moat around it

the orange one surrounded by tall pale men who stand astounded

lost the way but over the hill I found it

 

I rip shit like slit wrists I spill by the hour

in control like a pitcher on the mound it’s

unconscious flow like blood out the nose or down the

throat in cold lumps

I throw bows I lays low

the CGI dragon I slay slow

like WOW

 

I drop bombs like fat man, no Tehran

shots slide off me like a pan with Teflon

2 3/4 shells I sell em by the sea shore

the crackheads need weed to snore

 

Think you a double “O” agent

til I hit you with buckshot in ya face kid

cock it again and lit it blow the top off your knot

somethin’ was on your mind , now you done forgot

 

I flow like Niagra but more precise

Bitch I’m floating like when you soak the rice

I’m the fire when it’s cold

I’m the virus in the mold

 

so keep your distance

peep the difference

between isolation and reefer with incense

 

Passing the time as best you can

rationalizing the crime as best and flying off like a tucan

trying Zoloft and going to trebuchet myself outta bed in the mornin’

brush my teeth and making coffee still yawnin’

 

let the brass tumble because your ass mumbled

I scream I let loose I drink drank til I’m humble…

 

Black Identity in Kendrick Lamar’s “i” and “The Blacker the Berry” on To Pimp a Butterfly

Kendrick Lamar is a contemporary and prominent African American hip-hop artist. He was born in the city of Compton, a suburb of Los Angeles that is famous in hip-hop culture as being the birthplace of the group N.W.A. The men of N.W.A. were pioneers of gangster rap and the tradition that fathered modern hip-hop culture. Lamar, though his roots are steeped in the West Coast hip-hop tradition and aesthetic and he no doubt owes much to that tradition, is a pioneer in his own right. The West Coast hip-hop legacy which Lamar grew up with and runs with includes a rich and wide history. To name a few examples: Snoop Dogg’s honey-smoothly delivered lyrics concerned mainly with casual sex and currency, Ice Cube’s indignant and meticulously architected verse, and 2Pac’s revolutionarily heart-slamming (and rending) ballads glamorizing and burning-in harsh coals of reality of both his personal struggles and also the broader strife and conviction of (particularly urban) Black America. West Coast hip-hop has developed an impressive, unique and flavorful tradition and has established itself both in the physical place of Southern California and in the metaphysical realm of hip-hop via homages to and borrowings from the genre. However it is what an artist adds to the literary “conversation” that distinguishes them.

Each artist and indeed each human being is faced with the constantly adapting “problem” of life as humanity understands it, and the artist is tasked with constantly drafting possible solutions and fruitful breakthroughs and hypotheses toward improving society’s understanding of it. An artist’s endeavors ideally allow society to digest and confront disturbing truths about the world and also become aware of fleeting beauties in life that occur in unexpected forms. The way an artist understands their identity forms the way they approach their craft by determining the sorts of inflection that is inherent when one of a given social group addresses any particular audience. The Black artist in particular is faced with the added difficulty (or imposed asset) of needing to deal with the phenomenon W.E.B. DuBois called “double-consciousness” and its significance towards the sculpting of identity. Lamar clearly subscribes to the idea of double-consciousness as will be explicated later in the paper. The Black artist understands the necessity of defining and coloring this identity to the extent such that it is useful as a foundation from which to speak steadfastly to a broader society that has already defined the Black person/artist with stereotypes of being inferior, amusing, mentally-deficient beings incapable or unworthy of being fully understood.

Black artists have taken many different types of approaches to conquer this obstacle. Some find their calling to be to attempt to embrace individualism and reject the importance of the construct of race to its historical and present nature of being used to justify oppression and hate. Zora Neale Hurston perhaps often strived towards this as a means of transcending the issue as best as possible without denying racial culture and heritage. Others are inclined to accept DuBois’ vehement philosophical conclusion that “all art is propaganda and ever must be,” and find that art, this brutally delicate and uniquely human diversion and marvelous tool for social revelation, is best used when it directly addresses race and promotes individual encouragement, psychological empowerment and political change.

On To Pimp a Butterfly, Kendrick Lamar tackles the Black artist’s problem with an acuteness and urgency that can only be imitated by most of the rappers conscious enough to attempt to do so. His meditation on the theme of identity, and its implications for one’s responsibility to the group they identify with, that is baked into two different pictures of Black identity in the militaristically melodied and militantly messaged track “The Blacker the Berry,” and the racial self-affirming and hopefully existential track “i” is both profound and pounding. These works stand out among the rest of his work to emblazon Lamar’s place in the African American musical-literary tradition as a skilled propagandist and painter of America’s social ills (especially concerning racial identity and wealth inequality) as they corrupt the nation’s people. One of the affinities that makes Lamar unique in the hip-hop crowd is his ability to capitalize on the convention of creating single, poignant punchlines at the end of verses and songs that attack the listener’s philosophy and acceptance of Lamar’s premises in the verses and songs. For example in “The Blacker the Berry” Lamar emphasizes the insidiousness of the reality of the urban, working-class African American condition in a punchline that harmonizes with the theme of the song but is immediately preceded by a list of actions the narrator could take to show his support for one conception of blackness. This punchline problematizes ideas about Black identity and responsibility with a representation of reality as the narrator seems just as likely to, and capable of, being a credit to his race within the paradigm of stereotypes created by American society or of being someone who literally destroys the life of another Black person thereby symbolically reinforcing racial self-destruction and the inhibition of the race being all that it could or should be. These final two lines of the song that the audience is left to consider are “So why did I weep when Trayvon Martin was in the street/ When gangbanging make me kill a n**** blacker than me?/ Hypocrite” (Lamar “…Berry” 96-7). This mastery of the punchline is not, however the most obvious characteristic that stands out to the listener about Lamar’s album.

Lamar’s latest shtick and the musical idiosyncrasies he has adopted include a near rejection of the popular hip-hop practice of sampling pieces of older musical works to use as the cornerstone of the melody of rap songs. Sampling is indicative of hip-hop’s postmodernist bent, due to the fact that it is a, “patchwork music speech, vigorously quilted from fragments, granting it…a parodist’s attitude both toward the songs that are quoted and toward their traditions” (O’Meally 38). Lamar instead chooses the exact opposite direction when it comes to the melodies of his songs, more often enjoying the accompaniment of an actual flesh, bones, brass and wood band whose music sings the jazz tradition, as well as heavily using back-up singers and vocalists. Aside from its appeal due to its sheer peculiarity in this day of auto-tuned choruses, drum-machines, and technologically produced and manicured sounds, this decision demarks an existentialist theme around his music. Jazz music in particular lends itself to existentialist ideology because of its rejection of prescription and conventional timing and harmony and its emphasis on solos, improvisation, and spontaneity which mirror existentialism’s concept of the prominence of the individual and their capacity to “determine their own development through acts of [their own] will” (Google). This is just one weapon in Lamar’s musical-literary arsenal and “The Blacker the Berry” instead uses an interrogative tone surrounded by a relentless, snare-heavy beat.

His track, “The Blacker the Berry,” while it does rely on a more traditional, less improvisational, shorter-loop beat, the producer drops or alters this beat during given sections of the narrator’s rant against himself, Black America, and American society as a whole. This rant is prompted by the narrator’s sense that seemingly any response falls short and is inadequate to affront the contradictions, stereotypes, and pains created by racist American society. His catalogues of manifestations of the malicious understandings and goals of racist American society juxtaposed with the narrator’s own coming-to-understanding, reactions, destruction of a stereotype through the superficial significance of gaining wealth, reconciliation of Black-on-Black violence, and his and the Black community’s role in allowing itself to be formed by such malicious understandings, goals, and stereotypes represent an identity crisis and a sense of responsibility or culpability without direction or a clear solution. One line in the song that plays with the listener’s idea of blackness is “I’m black as the heart of a fuckin’ Aryan” (Lamar “…Berry” 77). This line follows the problematic tradition of using the color black to describe something as evil, but also this description shows a deep degree of blackness, and it just as significantly depicts blackness as something powerful. Lamar treats blackness from both postmodern and existential perspectives.

“…Berry” appears two songs before “i” on …Butterfly which serves as a pleasing progression as its postmodernist, confused and distressed theme and tone yields to the more hopeful, existentialist theme and sound of “i.” The contradictory opening lines, “Everything black I don’t want black/ I want everything black I ain’t need black/ Some white some black I ain’t mean black/ I want everything black” creates a theme of disturbance and disorientation around the definition and significance of blackness (Lamar “…Berry” 1-4). This sense of confusion and ambiguity is enhanced by the seamless combination of declarations without line breaks which make it unclear whether a given word or phrase applies to the preceding thought or the following one. One example of this is “I get off watchin’ you die in vain/ It’s such a shame they may call me crazy” in which the ambiguity is whether the shame is that “[he] gets off watchin’ you die in vain” or that “they…call [him] crazy” (Lamar “…Berry” 11-12). The end of this brief opening verse proposes an aspect of one take on Black identity in “Black don’t crack, my n****,” suggesting that the Black community perhaps has a sense of pride derived from the consequences of maintaining a taboo against acknowledging (and/or suffering) mental illness (Lamar “…Berry” 14). This ambiguity occurs again when the narrator presumably addresses racist American society, “You hate my people your plan is to terminate my culture/ You’re fuckin’ evil, I want you to recognize that I’m a proud monkey.” Here the ambiguity is whether the narrator wants the addressee to recognize that “[They’re] fuckin’ evil” or that “[He’s] a proud monkey” (Lamar “…Berry” 24-5). Noting the fact that “proud monkey” is an extremely deprecating term and is probably used sarcastically or spitefully, the narrator’s necessity for the addressee to acknowledge this reality of pride speaks to identity being constructed in part by the way the person is perceived by others in congruence with DuBois’ idea of double-consciousness.

The repetition of the seemingly charming idiom, “the blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice” is the bridge between the verses and choruses of the song. These sections are bereft of the incorrigible snare drum that slaps home Lamar’s syllables on the rest of the track and are stated by a different vocalist whose male, matter-of-fact toned, echoing voice takes on a dream-like or brain-washed sounding effect. This clear auditory shift in the background in no subtle terms tells the listener, “Pay attention to what I’m doing here. Do not take this at face value.” The song and the idiom alike are centered around race, however, as suggested by the last line of the bridge, “The blacker the berry, the bigger I shoot” [emphasis added] (Lamar “…Berry” 35)[1] explains that the convenient, disarmingly harmful and not-so-subtly racist thinking fastened in people’s minds by such aphorisms can lead to a false sense of security that may be disrupted by an explosion of violence, the insatiable beast that knows no race or hue. In fact one theme of the song—illustrated in part by this corruption of the last half of this line—is that despite a legitimate enemy in the presence of racism and racists, circumstances, ignorance and confusion often lead to outbursts of violence missing the mark and instead harming this representation of a troubled Black community itself. Violence as a theme in Lamar’s songs, tends to be something unpredictable and more-or-less irrational, done out of desperation and reaction rather than careful, macabre planning and deliberation. This is most evident when comparing the two different versions of Lamar’s song “i.”

Kendrick Lamar’s “i” magnetizes towards Hurston’s idea of the development and nurturing of the individual as both an intrinsic good and an indispensable tool for raising up the entire Black race. The song appeared as a single, in a more harmonically-engineered and produced, politically correct version, and again as a rougher-cut, live and interrupted version on the album entitled To Pimp a Butterfly. The album title is obviously is a transformation of the title of Harper Lee’s canonical novel, To Kill a Mockingbird. Lamar’s album is concerned with race and the machinations of racist American society just as Lee’s novel is. “i” is unique in the context of his last two albums in that it does sample the Isley Brothers’ “Who’s That Lady.” It is also unique in that it bears two markedly different versions.

Both versions of “i” carry two and a partially identical verses and similar choruses (see Table 1 below for a comparison of the choruses). The first lyrical discrepancy between the two versions is a minor, and perhaps innocuous or incidental one—trading “The Devil” for “Satan.” The subtle, and perhaps subconscious choice of preference of “The Devil” which is a more generic, secular term for the figure of Christian mythology also creates the consequence of softening and broadening the conceptual break between the two lines by simple virtue of the addition of the extra syllable via definite article, “the,” that in the single version suggests a sort of counterintuitive and perturbing connection between the Devil’s agenda and a believer’s knowledge of God, “I done been through a whole lot/ Trial tribulation but I know God/ Satan wanna put me in a bow tie” (Lamar single “i” 1-3). The …Butterfly version, while it may seem a departure from collective racial consciousness towards individuality from the single cut, actually diverges yet again halfway through the song into an unscripted (or at least an intended-to-appear-unscripted) moment when a disturbance in the crowd prompts Lamar to address the scuffle, tie the trivial event back to a theme of urgency, unity and pride, and improvise a lengthy verse of acapella rhymes that implicitly link the struggle of the individual to survive and thrive in ruinous circumstances to that of the broader Black society in the United States and maybe beyond. More examples of championing individuality and its place in the improvement of the confidence and status of the Black race abound in the song’s lyrics.

Table 1. Respective choruses of the two versions of “i”

Butterfly Version Chorus (minus “I love myself”) Single Version Chorus (minus “I love myself”)
When you lookin’ at me, tell me what do you see? The world is a ghetto with big guns and picket signs
Agh! I put a bullet in the back of the back of the head of the police But it can do whatever it wants whenever it wants (and) I don’t mind
Illuminated by the hand of God boy don’t seem shy He said I gotta get up, life is more than suicide
One day at a time, hunh! One day at a time, sun gon’ shine

 

The line, “When you’re lookin’ at me, tell me what do you see?” (Lamar …Butterfly “i” 10) acknowledges society’s role in attempting to define an individual’s identity without any possibility of knowing the truth about that identity which it professes to understand. This line evokes DuBois’ concept of double-consciousness as he defined in The Souls of Black Folk, “this sense of always looking at one’s self through the eyes of others” (DuBois 689). The phrase “I love myself” is central to each version, and is a straight-forward assertion of self-love, self-affirmation, and celebration of the individual, but it is by no means exclusive to the narrator alone; indeed the “emcee” effect of the construction of the heroic and impressive narrator/persona in the hip-hop tradition requires that the narrator is someone to admire and emulate. Therefore this self-affirmation, love and celebration is to be adopted by the listener and Black society. The line that follows the first “I love myself” in the …Butterfly  version of the song, “Illuminated by the hand of God boy don’t seem shy” (Lamar …Butterfly “i” 12), relies upon Lamar’s technique of using line-break placement to create fascinating ambiguities. The second half of the line can be taken as either a comment about the boy who is apparently the subject of the line, or conversely as a command of encouragement to some generic “boy.” The first interpretation, given the syntax of the line, seems the more likely intent or most common listening of the line, yet whether or not and how this boy is related to the narrator is unclear. The second, command interpretation lends to the somewhat Garvey-esque or Zionistic idea that the whole Black race has been chosen by the creator to be a special people, and the presence of an entreaty by the narrator to the Black masses to discard their insecurities and self-doubts and allow themselves to shine across the spectrum of all human activities, be these activities, journeys and achievements quantifiable or qualifiable.

Lamar draws the narrator’s struggle in “i” as an individual struggling against a maniacal society and the mental illness of depression as parallel to the Black individual’s, and by extension, the Black-race-in-general’s struggle against the inhibiting, belittling, bruising and frequently hostile environment of broader American society. Lamar’s narrator continuously directs his[2] rhymes at an undefined “you” as when he raps, “These days of frustration keep y’all on tuck and rotation” (Lamar …Butterfly “i” 21), inviting this unknown group subject “you” (from y’all) to be an acting agent in the remainder of the verse or at the very least explaining how the nature of the flawed world that this “you” is living in impacts this group. This “you” appears again later, this time to be indignantly interrogated, “What do you want from me and my scars?” (Lamar …Butterfly “i” 44). While there is no particular verbal emphasis on this line (though Lamar does make generous use of tonal variation in this version of the song—his singing rhyme-delivery swoops up to discordantly high pitches in the chorus in the words “see” and “police”) the structure and delivery of the line encourages a sense of surprise. The conjunctive addition “and my scars” is preceded by a brief pause which enhances its unexpectedness. This query about what society can reasonably expect for someone that it views as possessing the narrator’s identity, complete with his visible and recognizable scars, is pained and rhetorical. The next line beckons the audience to join in the narrative meditation, “Everybody lack confidence” (Lamar …Butterfly “i” 45), then sharply turns, asking the audience questions about the narrator and ending the verse with a promise made ostensibly to the audience, “How many times the city makin’ me promises?/ So I promise this, n****/ (I love myself)” (Lamar …Butterfly “i” 47-9). The promise of course is the vow of self-love, esteem, and pride in the face of the ugliness and rudeness of both the larger, impartial world as well as the echo-cage of racist American society.

The narrator of “i” is a larger-than-life warrior, but is still inadequate to take on alone an enemy as numerous and demonic as the negative spirituality of the world and the casual, sadistic racism of America. While the narrator “post[s] up fee-fie-foe-fum basis,” “Blow[s] steam in the face of the beast,” “[Goes] to war with an automatic weapon” and “deal[s] with depression ever since an adolescent,” it appears the war is a perpetual and losing one, as the narrator says he, “could never bob and weave/ From a negative and letting them annihilate me” (Lamar …Butterfly “i“ 21, 23, 61-2, 65, 67-8). However the narrator in this version doesn’t realize that he is not alone in the struggle until he is stirred onto a different path by a spontaneous event in the audience of the live recording, and this theme is carried through and built-upon within the acapella section of the song at its end.

While one would think that such an outburst in the audience would be edited out to preserve a polished, ideal version of the recording, Lamar opts instead to leave it in. The outburst itself is a vague dispute heard as a mosh of voices off-stage. Lamar is able to peace-make and put things in perspective for the inflamed parties like a practiced patriarch or street-preacher. This is a very meta-musical moment as Lamar presumably sheds the cloak of narrator and the audience hears the artist’s own spontaneous thought. The most notable aspect of this half-dialog is the change to the use of the pronouns “we” and “us.” This collective pronoun deposes the “I’s,” “My’s,” “You’s” and “Y’all’s” that have dominated the lyrics thus far, creating a union where there was formerly a separation. Lamar’s emcee/narrator now attacks an artery near the heart of historical Black identity as defined by language—the “N word.” The narrator uses his influence to “school” other artists and his audience about a majestic and elevating etymological origin of the prominent incarnation of the initially hateful American word from the Ethiopian word negus (pronounced /nee-guss/). What this rhetorical act makes clear is the narrator’s conception of the importance of Black America building its identity to one of strength, constitution, and pride to combat and repel the assaults of a society damaged with racism. His acapella verse culminates in a call-to-action punchline that simultaneously asks his audience to adopt his take and invocation of the word and directs them not to the historically problematic corruption of it, “N-E-G-U-S, say it with me/ Or say no more” (Lamar …Butterfly “i” 90).

By examining the two versions of “i” side-by-side, one may probe the essential theme of the song as well as draw hypotheses regarding the significance of the differences. A commonality between the two versions that reinforces the theme of a fractured, hard-to-grasp identity is the line, “In front of a dirt double-mirror they found me” (Lamar {both versions} “i” 8). The lyrics state that the narrator’s reflection upon himself (which the listener can safely assume is a primarily metaphysical self-reflection due to its lack of context) is split and obscured, however the words “they found me” also must be accounted for. These words reveal the probability that others discovered the narrator perhaps in a sort of trance because the task of “cleaning the glass” of the mirror and choosing the right angle, lighting, and gaze from which to seize the core of their identity overloaded the narrator’s senses. That is, the task proved to be stymieing in magnitude and depth of implication. The first striking discrepancy between the versions comes in the “hook,” or chorus. The …Butterfly  version, instead of including, “The world is a ghetto with big guns and picket signs” (Lamar single “i” 10), substitutes “When you lookin’ at me, tell me what do you see?” (Lamar …Butterfly “i” 10). The single version’s creation of its universe as one in which the entire planet is dramatized as a “ghetto,” a dangerous, sad, and impoverished place complete with weapons-of-considerable-destruction and conflicting politics and personalities is explicitly absent from the more introspective …Butterfly version of the song. While the single version chorus’ first line represents the narrator’s view on the outer world, both versions are concerned with the outside world as a force acting upon their narrator’s construction of identity: the …Butterfly version’s narrator rhetorically questions the outside world’s perception of him while the single version’s narrator claims he has let go of his concern for what the outside world is doing and is focused on himself as Ellison’s invisible man in his cave of light.

Lamar’s “The Blacker the Berry” and both versions of “i” examine the nature of Black identity as a basis for influencing individual and community activity in a complex and assertive manner. His songs make clear the continued relevance of the questions of what it means to be Black, what the acceptance of Black identity asks of and means for the individual, and how seriously to take broader society’s sentiments about one’s self and one’s community. Good art always causes its audience to ask questions, but doesn’t answer these questions to a high degree of satisfaction. At the conclusion of one song the audience is left with a hypocritical figure with whom people may relate or perhaps better understand after listening to the song. At the conclusion of another the narrator recommends a fraction of a solution and a direction to the audience by which to fortify Black identity into something strong and to be proud of as a base for creating positive changes for the individual, the community and the society. And at the end of the alternate version of that song, the narrator sees his story—not only his personal overcoming of obstacles, but also his knowledge that counters the mythological omission and destruction of a Black legacy to be proud of—as a means of transmitting a message to the youth that will allow them to transcend the obstacles to a greater degree and more easily than the narrator himself has. Lamar’s songs draw on philosophical and musical-literary tradition to create new and powerful, original and contemporary statements about Black identity.

[1] Line citations are approximate because song lyrics are spoken or sung and not written. The system of citing line-numbers in this paper will skip non-lyrical spoken audible words and would-be “verses” on the tracks.

[2] While Lamar’s emcee persona is possibly an auto-biographical narrator, neither version of this song definitively marks the narrator as male, as many of Lamar’s songs do. For simplicity’s sake and because the lyricist sounds male, with some concession the author of this paper chooses to use masculine pronouns to refer to the narrators of both songs.

The Chase

pick your pleasure: money, women, fame, drugs, things/

run after these til your legs quit and lungs sting/

but how is the pace between your two ears/

slow it down can’t party like every night is New Year’s/

if you’re always chasing means you gotta stop and smell the ends/

are you good to other people, do they call you their friend/

make ambition work for you put that bitch out on the streets/

don’t let her run you ragged trying to impress the right peeps/

check twice you’ll never know what coulda been if you don’t take the leap/

hustlin’ might not get you nowhere unless you move your feet/

don’t forget about those you came up with and the ones you left behind/

learn from their mistakes but don’t judge them in your mind/

follow me I’ll show you my way/

ripped off from people who did it better/

back or forward you always gotta pay/

no one does it on their own or copies anyone to the letter/

Feminist Verse

some people waitin’ for y’all to realize it’s true/ others they hatin’ but they not sure who/ to blame so things stay the same/ fools ain’t got the brain to change/ or maybe it’s the heart/ their attitudes are like a fart/

their ego smells/ they treat women like they just crawled out of hell/ ladies are trying but you pushed ’em and they fell/ they’re trying to take care of us, talk sense to us/ just stop for a minute like the bus/

I’ll beat you to a dry pulp like snuff/ so you’ll know what it’s like to be treated rough/  she gave you life, she cooks your food/ the least you can do is maintain a good mood/ swallow your pride before it’s chewed/ the message is legit but the rhymes are crude/

if all you see is pussy I know who the bitch is/ we gotta help each other light up flip them switches/ stimulate the mind too connect strong like hitches/ you can’t buy someone no matter how much riches

Ambulating

Fight fire with fire

Let demons chase demons

Get over that hill and on to the next

Life’s too short for regrets

Don’t let desperation drive you it’ll let you down

Do things for yourself set yourself up to succeed

Don’t let your feet get tangled in the weeds

Nettle bristlecone cacti stuck like honey on your fingers

You’re all alone but you’re all you need just reach out from time to time don’t get too high on your steed

Love conquers all but can you conquer love

I think knots

I strive I half-ass I quit. Never.

Squeeze peace out of the situation with communication and tact

Never forget the ones who bring you

No or just do it cause it’s right

Borrowing Lines

Ain’t nowhere to run to. There ain’t nothing here for free

I butter my skis and jump off

Laughin’ it up like Bernie Madoff

My heart and mind clash sparks spray off

My AK JK this man fights with his words not his guns

I just wanna run-

Shit

Got my dome split

Decisions decisions kick your ribs until the bone splits

This track I own it

Racism Time on his chariot

Blazing dabs your joint barely lit

But I gotta stay clear and focus

Git up git out and get something

Don’t let the maze in your eye cast dice

Move unseen cause cartoon terror like mice

Don’t test unless you plan to sacrifice

Push yourself you can do it eat your rice

Sumo champ selling all my movie rights

That’s my dream or something close

Play close like Glenn skiing on toast