"[1]

They want what’s similar to what’s been on the radio

Say it’s no big deal, but if I’m for real, it is, but pay me no

Credit, cash, debit, slash, let it pass, with no assist

No resistance, know a listener can tell the difference

I really wish I gave a fuck about what other people do

I really don’t, but want you to feel like I wrote this song for you

But it was writer’s block that prompted it, and me, who wanted it

My promise is my narcissistic nature won’t be charmed by which-

Ever one’s opinionated statements about how I made it

I’m elated if you hate it. I’m complacent if you love it

I put myself way above it—see it like an ant farm

Can’t harm what you can’t touch. And I’ll give it up

Before I let it be perverted, you heard it from me directly

It’s silly if I ask you to, but I don’t respect me

Let me make myself real clear here—you niggas coonin’ and buffoonin’

And doing more damage to you than who you

Think is your enemy. Foolish, to think that men’ll see you

And then emulate your example. You see it clear like a sample

The opportunity’s ample, so you don’t put up a fight

Just sell what’s already there, ‘cause it’s your copy to write

Rite of passage is the massive misinformation you faced and made believe

You understood—that was the ace up your sleeve

So you sat down at the table to play. They made it look fun

You thought you had the high card, they told you you were the one

And you were

Sometimes you play a game and win, but despite

Your winning at it, somehow you find something missing life

Like for me? I’ll take the L before I take a few dollars

If I gotta endorse a product that I know to be harmful

Where’s the honor in a nigga being a nigga for sell?

May as well put on your heavy chain and work in the fields

How do you make a slave stay a slave? Tell him he can make a slave

And make some money while he’s at. It’s simple and tragic

[2]

If Willie Lynch was just a myth but his invention still persisted

Would it matter if we saw ourselves as chattel and we battled one another?

I was raised to hate my brother, so I hate him

And I hate the woman who created him. And maybe from

A certain angle, if you strain to see the truth, then you could see

That what it really is I’m dealing with has more to do with me

But I’m afraid of truth, and hate that you remind me who I am

And that’s related to the way I grew up trying to understand

How I could make it through this place and do what I was meant to, and

Face the fact that I was snatched from home and brought to tend the land

‘Cause that’s the complicated kind of truth America the Beautiful

Would hate to help me deal with, plus I feel it’s kind of mutually

Beneficial if I’m killin’ niggas and she want ‘em dead

As much as she wants me to go away. A bounty’s on my head

So they can ask for gun control and more restrictions

They can’t satiate the hunger that she has for hanging niggas

I’m a proxy and a peon; a patsy taking orders;

Apache scout attacking scalps and trying to save my borders;

A hoarder on a hunt for blood, I’m crippled by the thirst

So I’m riffin' over turf and bitches bitchin’ it gets worse

Because my women wanna curse a cursed nigga. I am first

A man who ain’t a man, but kind of mannish so it hurts

To think about it, be surrounded by it, even be convicted;

To see it and believe it, talk about it and bear witness

Fuck til death do us part, wellness or in sickness

I wanna see your thickness—twerk something—be my mistress

Be my bitch. I’ll treat you like the bitch you is, and we’ll be living

Then we can have some children…and you could raise them brilliant…

Or you could raise them feeling how I feel about us all…

The strangest kind of fruit to ever fall…

You could raise them how I feel about us all…

The strangest kind of fruit to ever fall."