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But really I’m sick of rapping But really I miss the passion You feel me, I miss the scene You film me, I miss the action I miss touring, miss America, miss the pageant I’m still married to that dame Though the game is Mrs. Jackson to me Rappers love talking this epic When we talk of our exit from showbiz And nobody noticed we left it Was hedging bets at the school of Texas Holding Rolexes and Lexuses just a second, I got a test But I’m blessed, I got to live and learn Literally, did a term then went to getting earn Urn, just let it burn Words like a grow-op No, I don’t mean grow pot I mean gettin' that dope tho I still gotta grow lots Live real stories, grow plots They wanna mow crops And grow guap and find some botox robots to co-op But y'all know me, don’t stop! I just go off I stay on point for the heads This cut’s a mohawk, uh Letras de cancionesFor heads that’s headstrong, uh And head with dreads on and white corn rows Although that’s dead wrong But listen, this is all inclusive For all humans, just for y'all amusement Music for the blue-collared dudes and all the college students I’m Paul Wall in ‘05 and I’m car pollution and I’m James Harden hoopin' All meanin’ I’m a problem Houston A constant nuisance, I cause confusion Hold on this song’s long as the constitution Its just I got a lot of thoughts that are hard to explain I’m trying to try a little tender but I’m hard in the brain Hard headed thoughts darkened and charred in the flame I’m talking black, pardon the slang But the flame is like Flocka Young man always gotta go hard in the paint We talk foul on offensive, they call charge in the game But even activists targeting Targets and chain stores They get chained to the same war, same arms taking aim Arm leg leg arm head, we all are the same One race, feeling safe when we start in our lanes On our march til' that gun spark Reminds us of young scars And makes us all start to run, far from the pain So we take off and we hide and we harbor the shame And as we grow older Damn, it only gets harder to change It’s getting heavy I don’t wanna let my people down I’ll fight the evil within until I’m beneath the ground Sleeping sound, that’s my deepest vow Til I take my deepest bow I’ll keep reaching out through these speakers Now Gary told me my album should be called “Food Court" ‘Cause I only talk about food, justice, and hoop scores Put on my Jordan’s this morning without a shoehorn Played a couple games, then debated the use of brute force Versus new forms of abuse to make us produce more Over-cold pizza and a lukewarm 2-4 The poor gotta eat, so like first ball we shoot for it I’m just trying to remember that life is too short Every second’s precious Lets stay up like due north of New York Where my homegirl’s trying to quit with the Newports And my dude’s trying to keep the food portions down to two courses I’m trying to build with a lady And maybe move towards forming a team That’s my last reference to sports I promise I’m through these women are gettin’ too bored Callin' this dude-core (hold-on, unh, just keep it going) Yea, now the last time i was rocking this I was rocking a diamond tee Rhyming like Rawkus would sign him But dreaming of rocking that diamond — Rocafella - Before Barack was presiding over the oval office to go to Iraq I was grindin' an I still love it Up in front of the public Juggling subjects in couplets Its funny my stomach plummets Right before every time But I’m fine once them drums hit Drum sticks in buckets Backstage with subway Subwiches Man I’m lucky as what This what I do for the ducats No soul sucking for paystubs I’m nobody’s puppet Now I’m buzzin cause this stuff is in my blood like an IV But just ‘cause I love it it’s not my ID I mean I’m wrapped in these rhyme schemes And I rap to define me but, rap doesn’t define me Trust that I’ll be fine when the shine leaves Dudes used to say, "would you rhyme please?!" They had to push me to start like they couldn’t find keys Now I’m regarded the most rewinded Rwandese London-born but not that one renowned for the grime scene (unh, yea) I’m sending this one to my fam and my old friends And fans that follow all the tweets that I don’t send My man G is on the net — no goaltend My plan B, I just left ‘cause I goes in I’m into 30 for 30 docs and 30 Rock Why? Cuz I’m 30 and cuz I’m kinda of a nerdy jock I remember before Jigga made 30 hot And I still front on Justin a little cuz of that dirty pop I had CeeLo on cassette back when he would rap Sittin' up in my room with that Moesha track That was back when North America made cars Now inner cities look like outer space — we only make stars I remember we didn’t care when we ate carbs I remember dreaming of that day when we would take charge I’m seein' the seeds of future change right now in the present As we work in our fields here grounding the message in real life lessons Getting right down to the essence Then we water that like a fountain when we’re counting our blessings Sharing the hope of our hearts and the doubts and the questions See the seeds sprout into trees that leave thousands of fresh ones Haven’t got there yet but I’ve found some direction I’m not a catholic but these tracks is the sound of confession It’s like I said ‘em then heaven sent down a postcard Over a large ocean of doubt via coast guardian angel Just sayin’ we’re ok - We’ve all broke hearts, groped parts Fought and hurt, drank and smoked darts We’re all victims, we’re all innocent, no charge You’re free to be who you are, now go and don’t harm The world is so starved for you being unique That’s cliche but it often is with the truth, see It’s nothing too deep and it’s nothing new We all knew it as youth, Seems we just forgot as soon as we grew a few feet… That’s why I like to say remember to remember That’s why I like to play my fingers on that Fender And that’s why I write and play to try to find the light of day In these dark winter nights and bravely bring it to the centre Still some say it’s hood nonsense, no good conscience They got it twisted, it’s hood conscious and good nonsense But check the comments, some supporters got enough hate My fans don’t post "I love Shad”, they just say “F*** Drake" I got no problems with Drizzy of course And I’m not vexed I can’t cop what Drizzy affords, I’m all good I even got to give to the poor and T.O. knows I’m like a Benz in this city of Fords (Rob)… I’m thinking they’re bored with the backpacking Like, "is he done yet?" They waiting on that hit like Phil Collins with the drum set In the air tonight I’m heavy as two tonnes Heads sleeping on the kid I’m breaking down they bunk beds And raising hell like Rev Run said Watch him stalk his prey and walk this way slow as the undead I keep it 100 ‘til sunset Till there’s not one breath in my lungs left The undisputed number one-esque Nah, this is a new act called sinner and saint Where the singer covers inner pain with glitter and paint And delivers his statements with wit and with vigour and haste They say entertainer’s like Cedric ‘cept thinner and great… I’m playing, I’m not a comedy king Obviously rap fathered me sorta like Pop’s rap on Common’s Be My policy’s quality over quantity, real — ahh, hm (heh, hah! almost had it, almost had it) My policy’s quality over quantity Real girls over drama queens Real world over college dean philosophy Honesty over shock Real thoughts over knocking beats Real talk… It’s over when I drop the beat From Letras Mania