I know n*ggas in Timb boots that’ll stomp your face through a f*cking floor
Prisons that got bars that are better than yours
Y’know I would say I’m sonning you bast*rds
But if it was left up to me, you woulda been gone by the morning after
If Assata Shakur broke out of prison,
Why would I respect a n*gga doing a b*tch sentence for no snitching?
You got ya n*ggas out here dying deaths bloodier than Christ’s, yet not even worth half the sacrifice
If Malcolm killed for freedom, why would I respect you n*ggas out here killing for bragging rights?
You females are emcee, yeah, but you half the light
All you do is rap about your pus*y, so your walls and your rhymes are half as tight
You the baddest b*tch, yeah, all the bark but half the bite
Never needed Martin to tell me that a million men weren’t made to march to Maybach Music
There is no secondary to revolutionary so I’ll put Calvary in my vocabulary
And if I’m my father’s child then f*ck it, my resurrection is hereditary
All you n*ggas talk about is pus*y, clothes and gunplay
But God so loved the world that He sent me to spit you a Easter Sunday
Your reign is over n*gga, it’s His Son’s day
Don’t make it rain if you can’t make sh*t grow
Don’t say you love your hood but can’t spit a 16 about hope
Don’t say you believe in God if you’re the same n*gga that gained the whole world for the price of your soul
Don’t say that numbers don’t lie if they made you believe that you could put a price on your soul
And all you’ve got to show for yourself is a body full of tattoos and nice clothes
Answer me this: is a fly n*gga really a fly n*gga if no one’s around to see him when the curtains closed?
Or do n*ggas who say they get b*tches really get b*tches if all he f*cks is hoes?
And if n*ggas who say they get b*tches really get b*tches like they say they get b*tches
Then chances are that n*gga probably got fleas and he may be mistaking for being sick with HIV
But these n*ggas are immune to the system and blood-tested in the street
He’d rather beat his blues over the street, he’s positive Eazy-E
But before the results came out, he died in his Chuck’s and his di*kie’s
Congrats n*gga, your di*k may be long but that’s the only thing about you that’s deep
The most harmful thing in the world is a n*gga with a microphone whose mind is weak
If it takes a village to raise a child, it’s funny how you make millions and n*ggas back at home are still dying right on your street
Because n*ggas like you have never been “Man in the Mirror” enough to watch what you speak
You ain’t drop out of school because you needed to hustle
You dropped out of school because you couldn’t read
You was sick of n*ggas clowning you in Block C
Now you a rich fella who makes fun of regular n*ggas with college degrees
But the difference between the man you are and the men they are is that they can read their children bedtime stories
Ignorant is the man who thinks he’s winning but can’t pronounce the credits on his own CD or the tags on his own clothes
I get it, you n*ggas should stick to pony, it’s only two syllables
You know I always pictured Kanye with one of Carol’s Daughters, never a f*cking Kardashian
But sh*t, nowadays even Carol’s Daughters don’t even look African
If God forgives and you don’t, that makes you half the man, yet all the sin
But I guess there’s no point in believing in God if you can’t see Him
And if He’s small enough to wear around your neck, I see why you n*ggas think that you could be Him
You n*ggas mistake heaven for being rich, real weight for being a clip, honesty for being a snitch
Soon, you won’t even be able to tell the difference between your daughter and ya b*tch