So, I figure I should tell you a little bit about myself
Since you don’t really know, anything, about much at all, that’s what i’ll do
Gather round children
I grew up round them white kids first—paranoid like a crackhead
A blemish in they world, yeah, I was just a blackhead
Proactive, they put me with them smarter kids, I didn't care
I was just mad that I was the darkest kid with thick hair
And they stared, like I was not suppose to be in there
I grew up, mama living like Kadeisha and miss Sinclair
That’s single, she didn't like to mingle with her kids there
And when they tried to woo we brought the Whoo ! like Rick Flair
No chin hair, what was I eleven nigga?
And that’s when you decided that yo kids would come second nigga?
Just barely walking and you still just kept it stepping nigga?
Now that’s some sick shit, what is you a leper nigga?
See that’s the type of shit that make not respect a nigga
Just know the debt you owe is looking real hefty nigga
Nah, I ain’t mad, I just said that for the record nigga
Nah, I ain’t mad I just said that for the record nigga
But I digress and reminisce on days after he left us
When honey buns and flaming hots was healthy breakfast
When micros and kinky twists gave hell to edges
And them girls in your class started wearing heels and wedges, ahhhh
Sounds good don’t it?
I know somebody out there like “it sound hood homie”
But the hood was all we had, and we made good from it
Especially them D-boys, I know they made good money
Made good dummies, start selling that wet work
Cause we see them stacking paper like cubical desk work
They see through like wet shirts
They grandmamma chest hurt
Her heartbroken, cause the streets done got up in ‘em
They rocked the uniform: white tee, 5 pocket denim
Nikes, no clocking in
But they working that nine to five
High key they don’t know better, buy trees
And go and choke like rabbit first time at the shelter, I see
A people stuck in they ways, no it’s not just a phase
They see a future in tomorrow, they are stuck in a daze
And I am fucking amazed
At how these wack niggas spit the way they Dunkin is glazed
See that’s sweet nigga
But I got it hot and ready for the street nigga
Your soul starving, so I prepared you a feast nigga
So get them headphones to your ears, and eat nigga
I’m vegetarian, but it is full of meat nigga
I’m trying to take it cross country, track meet nigga
Then hit the mall like I’m hitting athlete figures
I actually figured, that I’d be harder than this
I’m just warming up, but they say that I’m sautering this
I think I’m fathering this, my seed come through the pen
I’m trying to bust in another life I ain't fucking no bitch
And I can’t fuck with no snitch
Keep my name out your fucking mouth
Unless you talking bout me, or sucking this dick, aww
I try to let this beat fade like newly washed denim
But got on my Scrappy Doo, just “let me back at ‘em “
I’m trying to know this game, just (uh), let me back catch ‘em
Just let me direct ‘em , like traffic lights
And I'mma take ‘em higher, much higher than your average flight
And give ‘em mouthfuls much bigger than your average bite
And show ‘em how I’m much flyer than your average kite
And now they grabbing tight
But I’m just picking them off me
Writing these death certificates, Killing them softly
(aww)
Since you don’t really know, anything, about much at all, that’s what i’ll do
Gather round children
I grew up round them white kids first—paranoid like a crackhead
A blemish in they world, yeah, I was just a blackhead
Proactive, they put me with them smarter kids, I didn't care
I was just mad that I was the darkest kid with thick hair
And they stared, like I was not suppose to be in there
I grew up, mama living like Kadeisha and miss Sinclair
That’s single, she didn't like to mingle with her kids there
And when they tried to woo we brought the Whoo ! like Rick Flair
No chin hair, what was I eleven nigga?
And that’s when you decided that yo kids would come second nigga?
Just barely walking and you still just kept it stepping nigga?
Now that’s some sick shit, what is you a leper nigga?
See that’s the type of shit that make not respect a nigga
Just know the debt you owe is looking real hefty nigga
Nah, I ain’t mad, I just said that for the record nigga
Nah, I ain’t mad I just said that for the record nigga
But I digress and reminisce on days after he left us
When honey buns and flaming hots was healthy breakfast
When micros and kinky twists gave hell to edges
And them girls in your class started wearing heels and wedges, ahhhh
Sounds good don’t it?
I know somebody out there like “it sound hood homie”
But the hood was all we had, and we made good from it
Especially them D-boys, I know they made good money
Made good dummies, start selling that wet work
Cause we see them stacking paper like cubical desk work
They see through like wet shirts
They grandmamma chest hurt
Her heartbroken, cause the streets done got up in ‘em
They rocked the uniform: white tee, 5 pocket denim
Nikes, no clocking in
But they working that nine to five
High key they don’t know better, buy trees
And go and choke like rabbit first time at the shelter, I see
A people stuck in they ways, no it’s not just a phase
They see a future in tomorrow, they are stuck in a daze
And I am fucking amazed
At how these wack niggas spit the way they Dunkin is glazed
See that’s sweet nigga
But I got it hot and ready for the street nigga
Your soul starving, so I prepared you a feast nigga
So get them headphones to your ears, and eat nigga
I’m vegetarian, but it is full of meat nigga
I’m trying to take it cross country, track meet nigga
Then hit the mall like I’m hitting athlete figures
I actually figured, that I’d be harder than this
I’m just warming up, but they say that I’m sautering this
I think I’m fathering this, my seed come through the pen
I’m trying to bust in another life I ain't fucking no bitch
And I can’t fuck with no snitch
Keep my name out your fucking mouth
Unless you talking bout me, or sucking this dick, aww
I try to let this beat fade like newly washed denim
But got on my Scrappy Doo, just “let me back at ‘em “
I’m trying to know this game, just (uh), let me back catch ‘em
Just let me direct ‘em , like traffic lights
And I'mma take ‘em higher, much higher than your average flight
And give ‘em mouthfuls much bigger than your average bite
And show ‘em how I’m much flyer than your average kite
And now they grabbing tight
But I’m just picking them off me
Writing these death certificates, Killing them softly
(aww)
( Mick Jenkins )
www.ChordsAZ.com