Lyrics:
the kill
Sure to be defended by those up on Capitol Hill
They can say they care about those who suffer
At the hands of a system they created with one another
One day I was in deep contemplation
The state of humanity had my brain racing
Infuriating, I had to pinpoint an answer
No longer would I ponder what
geez
Unless there's Gs involved
There's fees involved
E mail my team it'll get resolved
By the way I wrote this I don't
Do no karaoke when I rap
I'm
With the same clothes he slept in
One more step and kaboom
So just assume to these MF'ers I'm DOOM
On the day that I was born I wrote M-E-F in
and kaboom
So just assume to these MF'ers I'm DOOM
On the day that I was born I wrote M-E-F in the womb
That was crazy, my mama's baby, my papa's maybe
the natives in Green Bay
To come and watch the Frenchmen shoot their guns and have their say
Who can own the land? Who can own a man?
A tribe, a king,
solo
It's me and my demon
Like this a duo
But this is not true though
My actions are silent
My thoughts be so brutal
I'm coldest I spaced out
I wrote
They ask me "Shad, what's the hold up?"
Think I'm ready for my close up (cheese)
Stackin' the green while she roll up
Like my weed loud like it spoke
It's the brown child, better version of the story
Sees Conji, a sister, mother played by Tori
In Astoria, kid named Tiki took the cake
The greens
and pops that the people that I do it fo' two immigrants who took a plane to another land, a foreign language till this day they don't fully understand, I
tummy
Don't ask how
There was a woman who died
By getting trampled by a cow
Now
When people ask me how I rap this fast
And how I remember all the words I
Only letters you’re teaching are LSD
Were your badly made scribbles
All drafted by children
Too vastly illiterate to handle your gimmick?
Like Galactus
core i was young and restless
I lived in San Francisco
I wrote crappy rhymes over lousy
Instrumentals on my four track
No Pro-tools, couldn't afford that
at it, after mathematics
In the home of drive-by's and ak-matics
Swap meets, sticky green, and bad traffic
I dip through, then I give you (still)
Yeah be the realest shit I never wrote
I ain't write this shit by the way nigga
Some real shit right here nigga
This will be the realest shit you
Take me back to the days
When it was hoopin by the playground
Smoke a little weed, just stay to loud
Miss all the homies, damn time did flew
I mean
the day when the recipe calls for blackend
Wrong ingredients
Maybe too much herbs and spices
Maybe you got hungry for the wrong dish
Southern greens
I don't want to be no doctor
As long as I've got these Ps and Oscars
I'm going to still eat and prosper
Pineapples, greens and lobsters
Constant
up on Weezy,
Haze smoke in the room,
Cough, cough,
cnd it got my chest wheezing, uh,
No white, only green,
Throw your Ls up, for Leeds,
Man, I
at it, after mathematics
In the home of drive-by's and ak-matics
Swap meets, sticky green, and bad traffic
I dip through, then I give you (still)
a green piece of paper with a number on it
I'm following the vision of realness that I been haunted by
Since the day I wrote a wrote a rhyme
It inspired my
I hope the ring you gave to her
Turns her finger green
I hope when you're in bed with her
You think of me
I would never wish bad things
But I
Yeah be the realest shit I never wrote
I ain't write this shit by the way nigga
Some real shit right here nigga
This will be the realest shit you
the paper, get the green
Travel the world, y'all know I did, yeah, y'all know I did
Fuckers know I did
Matter of fact I did it twice, I get a note, I wrote it
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