To the kids who so happily go to school wearing the lyrics of the latest hooks,
only to recognize that they are reading from the oldest books
But they say, "Who cares? I'm future Young Money, future Crime Mob,"
but after graduation where the hell is that job?
Nobody gives them the option of being a rapper or a poet
or getting educated opinions across so the mis-educated would know it.
This ain't hood sense or book sense,
but it's that common sense that will assist in your future relevance.
Present suffering stemmed from a brutal past, oppression, and disenfranchisement
But your purpose is not confined to being someone's entertainment
Oh, am I stirring up trouble or being politically incorrect? Excuse me for being upset
when my people now hang from the brain instead of the neck.
To the white brothers, the black brothers, the young and old
Even to the mixed brothers who's mothers needed a taste of soul
Red brother, yellow brother, and I can't forget the brown brother
when Africa wasn't around, His-Panic became my mother. because we understood one another.
You see this ain't no racist skit, but just some shit
to force you to use your mind a bit
America learns from the black man, because he's been at the bottom
Me spittin' this knowledge from this oral glock; I shot em, I got em!
Lessons I learned in the hood makes me proud, makes me feel good
enough to finish school and pay to live in your neighborhoods
My mama was a sista, my mama didn't play
Didn't bother coming home when I got bad grades
Mama was a little bit crazy, but mama didn't raise no fool
and she didn't pay for school just so I could pretend to be cool
I put what I had learned together and made a mental meal
Just a plan B, in case there's no record deal
I can sing and I can dance til I can't do it no mo'
But I educated myself so I'd avoid the Minstrel Show
I've flipped the script, not a rapper but a poet
Another way to speak louder so the mis-educated can know it
They say our song of complaints are always on repeat
but now who are the ones protesting on Wall Street
Our people have been fighting for years, demanding America to change
You're band wagon fans, we're vets in this game
This is it! Everything I said, I meant.
The key is beating the odds against a system that keeps backs bent
Read brothers! Read brothers! Ye freed descendants of slaves
Don't make Douglass, Dubois, and Booker T turn in their graves
Sufferers of oppression, victims of disenfranchisement
Earth's first man needs no more embarrassment
Build communities and empires, the builders of pyramids back on the map
Getting young brothers to understand the original, true Gangsta Rap
I have this, I have that, and I have that as well
but what's the use of all of these things when you're spending time in jail
Don't go pointing the pointing the finger son, there is this thing called accountability
which you will need to have if you want credibility
This is that hood sense and that book sense,
combined with that common sense that makes me relevant
No excuses. No more excuses from the sons of the mother land
because you are the example. You are the Original Man!
But they say, "Who cares? I'm future Young Money, future Crime Mob,"
but after graduation where the hell is that job?
Nobody gives them the option of being a rapper or a poet
or getting educated opinions across so the mis-educated would know it.
This ain't hood sense or book sense,
but it's that common sense that will assist in your future relevance.
Present suffering stemmed from a brutal past, oppression, and disenfranchisement
But your purpose is not confined to being someone's entertainment
Oh, am I stirring up trouble or being politically incorrect? Excuse me for being upset
when my people now hang from the brain instead of the neck.
To the white brothers, the black brothers, the young and old
Even to the mixed brothers who's mothers needed a taste of soul
Red brother, yellow brother, and I can't forget the brown brother
when Africa wasn't around, His-Panic became my mother. because we understood one another.
You see this ain't no racist skit, but just some shit
to force you to use your mind a bit
America learns from the black man, because he's been at the bottom
Me spittin' this knowledge from this oral glock; I shot em, I got em!
Lessons I learned in the hood makes me proud, makes me feel good
enough to finish school and pay to live in your neighborhoods
My mama was a sista, my mama didn't play
Didn't bother coming home when I got bad grades
Mama was a little bit crazy, but mama didn't raise no fool
and she didn't pay for school just so I could pretend to be cool
I put what I had learned together and made a mental meal
Just a plan B, in case there's no record deal
I can sing and I can dance til I can't do it no mo'
But I educated myself so I'd avoid the Minstrel Show
I've flipped the script, not a rapper but a poet
Another way to speak louder so the mis-educated can know it
They say our song of complaints are always on repeat
but now who are the ones protesting on Wall Street
Our people have been fighting for years, demanding America to change
You're band wagon fans, we're vets in this game
This is it! Everything I said, I meant.
The key is beating the odds against a system that keeps backs bent
Read brothers! Read brothers! Ye freed descendants of slaves
Don't make Douglass, Dubois, and Booker T turn in their graves
Sufferers of oppression, victims of disenfranchisement
Earth's first man needs no more embarrassment
Build communities and empires, the builders of pyramids back on the map
Getting young brothers to understand the original, true Gangsta Rap
I have this, I have that, and I have that as well
but what's the use of all of these things when you're spending time in jail
Don't go pointing the pointing the finger son, there is this thing called accountability
which you will need to have if you want credibility
This is that hood sense and that book sense,
combined with that common sense that makes me relevant
No excuses. No more excuses from the sons of the mother land
because you are the example. You are the Original Man!
