Aydee

music

Hot Tracks

[Yes, yes. 
This is a topic that’s near and dear to my heart. 

I’m just try’n’a eat.]

[Hook]
I ain’t had dinner,
and I ain’t ate a thing all day.
Lord, forgive me…
Lord, forgive me…
the thing that I’m trying to say 
is I think I should eat alone.
Bitch, don’t steal my fries.
Bitch, don’t steal my fries.

I can see you eyeing them, but get up off my tray, 
I got my drink, I got my food, and I would share them, but today I’m hungry,
Bitch, don’t steal my fries.
Bitch, don’t steal my fries.
Bitch, don’t steal my fries.
Bitch, don’t steal my fries.

[1]
We just went through the drive-thru, and when I asked you if you want food,
you replied all politely and you denied it like it was cool. 

I can feel the hunger. 
I could have guessed that you would just assume I would prob’ly wanna
share with you, but how dare you to, because I am not yo’ momma,
and I ain’t here to feed ya.
I’m sorry, but 
you’re shit out of luck, 
and I ain’t trying to tease ya,

but a second ago when we was in the car
you should have said, before I got my straw,
“You know what? I’m hungry. I should get a burger.”
And said it loud enough so I could’ve heard ya.
I’d hate for my dinner to turn to a murder.
You can’t get a piece, and you can’t get a third of
my food, and it’s rude and it’s kind of absurd, I
wish you would have knew and just made you a purchase.

I can feel the hunger. 
I could have guessed that you would just assume I would prob’ly wanna
share with you, but how dare you to, because I am not yo’ momma,
and I ain’t here to feed ya.
I’m sorry, but 
you’re shit out of luck, 
and I ain’t trying to tease ya.

[Hook]
I ain’t had dinner,
and I ain’t ate a thing all day.
Lord, forgive me…
Lord, forgive me…
the thing that I’m trying to say 
is I think I should eat alone.
Bitch, don’t steal my fries.
Bitch, don’t steal my fries.

I can see you eyeing them, but get up off my tray, 
I got my drink, I got my food, and I would share them, but today I’m hungry,
Bitch, don’t steal my fries.
Bitch, don’t steal my fries.
Bitch, don’t steal my fries.
Bitch, don’t steal my fries.

[2]
I’m try’n’a keep myself calm 
and not just respond because I’m pissed off,
but fact is that shit is backwards; 
can’t warm it up, and you ain’t Kris Kross.

And I’m looking right past you.
You can get mad, but you can take that shit down to White Castle.

I know you got cash, and they make it fast, so it ain’t a hassle.
Get off yo’ ass and get you some food of your own to eat,
‘cause you ain’t getting none of mine [for real!]
You ain’t getting none of mine [for real!]

So spare me the pitiful look.
If you could cook you could make something that took
minimal time, but you can’t have none of mine.
I’m sorry, but no, not this time.
Burger King, Jack In The Box, Panda Wok—so many choices you got.

Get you a Happy Meal; ask for a box.
Get you a Happy Meal; ask for a box.

I can feel the hunger. 
I could have guessed that you would just assume I would prob’ly wanna
share with you, but how dare you to, because I am not yo’ momma,
and I ain’t here to feed ya.
I’m sorry, but 
you’re shit out of luck, 
and I ain’t trying to tease ya.

[Hook]
I ain’t had dinner,
and I ain’t ate a thing all day.
Lord, forgive me…
Lord, forgive me…
the thing that I’m trying to say 
is I think I should eat alone.
Bitch, don’t steal my fries.
Bitch, don’t steal my fries.

I can see you eyeing them, but get up off my tray, 
I got my drink, I got my food, and I would share them, but today I’m hungry,
Bitch, don’t steal my fries.
Bitch, don’t steal my fries.
Bitch, don’t steal my fries.
Bitch, don’t steal my fries.

[3]
Bitch, don’t steal my fries.
I ain’t try’n’a front, though.
I would prob’ly share, but I ain’t even had no lunch, so
thinkin’ you can prob’ly get a nugget out my ten piece,
an onion ring, or my hush puppy might be tempting, 
but I ain’t try’n’a share my entrée or dessert with you.
That Dutch Apple Pie is all mine, so stop staring, boo.

Bitch, don’t steal my fries.
Bitch, don’t steal my fries.

Walk out that door, get in the car and take that drive. 
My New Year’s resolution is to not make this confusing,
if we’re in the drive-thru, then order something that’s for you, 
I’m saying, 
Bitch, don’t steal my fries.
Bitch, don’t steal my fries.
Bitch, don’t steal my fries.
Bitch, don’t steal my fries.

[I suppose…

now that you know better you can do better.

<Aha-ha>

It’s A. Dot…

That’s real talk….]

Bitch, Don't Steal My Fries

Intro [Yes, yes.

And so the journey begins.

You know how it feels, 
and I’m pretty sure you understand, too…

Yeah…

Ha!

Good looking out, Truth!

I finally made my move, 
and I figured I’d give you an update
on where I’m at right now.]

[MALCOLM X (as portrayed by Denzel Washington): 
“What would you call an educated Negro with a BA, or an MA, or a BS or a PhD?
I’ll tell you. You call him a Nigger! That’s what.”]


[1]
They say History is written by the victors,
so when you see my picture
in the book it’ll be consistent with my memory, 
my victories, my tendencies that tempered me and wintered me.
Cold, like those Chi City winds, ‘cause they’re blistering.

It’s in my DNA.
It’s in my bloodline.
What I do is much deeper than a punchline.

Where I’m from crime
is the norm.
Bullets hail—we stay calm amidst the storm.

I say ‘we’ because
when I say ‘me’ it’s us.
When I say ‘you’ it’s me, too, and vice versa.
It’s not much that needs to be proven in nice verses.
Write cursive—scribble out—print it like I meant it.
My people *closed* minded—
wear it if you fit it.
Rarely niggas get it. If they did it would be critically acclaimed.

But still the same A. Dot.
Still focused on my vision at a rate they not.

[Hook]
Still hoping for some healing from this place I got to,
and knowing niggas feel it when I say ‘I got you.’

is enough to keep me cool for the moment. 
School in the mornings,
teach in the evenings and be decent. 

No time to sleep in;
just create these
statements like a dissertation for a PhD

[“What would you call an educated Negro with a BA, or an MA, or a BS or a PhD?
I’ll tell you. You call him a Nigger! That’s what.”]

[2]
So, I finally made my move to the South, and as I’m moving about
I get a better understanding what my roots is about,
because my people from here, and though I can’t see ‘em from here
they’re reflected in my expressions
so you’re hearing ‘em clear.

They ask me, “Why would you leave?”
I ask ‘em, “How could I stay
and be limited on the shit I have the power to say?”

I’m thinking years in the future.
They’re thinking now and today,
like getting showered with flowers, 
not in the aisle at your grave.

It’s hard to make it make sense.
My momma proud as can be, 
but says, “I thought you left before to get a college degree?”
And as I tell her, “I did, but I’m going back in the summer.”
it kind of makes me wonder what the fuck I’ll do with another.

It’s nothing more than a question—rhetorical one, at that.
I mean, the fact is all of this shit started off with a rap.
And if I’m still doing that
I think I’m doing okay.
If it ain’t complimentary, then you ain’t got shit to say [to me].

[Hook]
Still hoping for some healing from this place I got to,
and knowing niggas feel it when I say ‘I got you.’

is enough to keep me cool for the moment. 
School in the mornings,
teach in the evenings and be decent. 

No time to sleep in;
just create these
statements like a dissertation for a PhD

[“What would you call an educated Negro with a BA, or an MA, or a BS or a PhD?
I’ll tell you. You call him a Nigger! That’s what.”]

[3]
Because you read it in a book,
thought that it was true;
saw it on the television—thought that it was you.
Self-fulfilling politics get taught to you at school.
Brolic ‘cause you brought with it a positively rude
mind state. I keep mine like a blind date:

I can be objective, 
I can be accepting, 
but I’d rather be selective.
If I’m not respected I’m the wrong nigga to f’ with.
If you saw my checklist
you knew this was next. It’s 
not a matter of simply rapping.
I really happen to have a strategy being enacted.

If you know, you know I ain’t afraid of spittin’
what I know is true ‘cause I’m south of the Mason-Dixon.
If I know the Truth it’s my duty to make revisions;
showing my peoples’ beauty and skewing what They envision.

I make my living off the things that I think.
Therefore, I am. 
I’ll give that a minute to sink [in].

[Hook]
Still hoping for some healing from this place I got to,
and knowing niggas feel it when I say ‘I got you.’

is enough to keep me cool for the moment. 
School in the mornings,
teach in the evenings and be decent. 

No time to sleep in;
just create these
statements like a dissertation for a PhD

[“What would you call an educated Negro with a BA, or an MA, or a BS or a PhD?
I’ll tell you. You call him a Nigger! That’s what.”]

Dissertation [Part 1: The Introduction] Prod By Truth

[1]
You don’t even know it, but you sleep, nigga. 
And when I say it, you assume it’s ‘cause I’m deep. It’s a
--easy way to keep the peace, nigga. 
Unless you restin’ in it. Sleep with a dog, wake with the fleas, 
take what you need. No. Take what you’re given, and live with it. 
Learn to love it. Never try to rise above it. Just fester and learn to covet it. 
Niggas never get enough of it. 
And then be sick of me discussing it. Fuck it. I understand it, man. 
Living is proof. 
But when I see it, then what the fuck is a nigga to do,
especially when you thinking that what you living is truth?
I mean, you claim to be a man—ten toes on the ground. 
A poser, a clown—man, do you know how you sound?
You take the tools of an oppressor, then dress ‘em a little better, 
express ‘em over a record, a metaphorical lesson. 
Twenty-five lighters on the dresser, yessir. 
Then you can prob’ly brighten up your lectures, jester. 
But you’d rather step and fetch it—and profess your ignorance, 
and you can look in the mirror tomorrow and live with it. 

Cash Rules Everything Around Me—CREAM, 
cause Dope Ruined Everything Around My DREAM.

Preme got knowledge.
Truth got knowledge.
Ed quit his job and went back to college. 

[2]
C-Style got knowledge and a plan. 
Jay still locked up, and I’m trying to manage a manifestation
of an indivisible nation, 
with diminishing patience, 
because I’m sick of us waitin, 
so the quicker we make it
the quicker we can progress. 
But niggas don’t wanna make, just wanna be living the best. 
Just want to count the most money, and hope we see that he got it, 
so when he talks about haters, then we’re the easiest topic, 
because his styles are the latest, and he can easily cop em, 
so all the ladies, they love him, they want to be in his pockets, 
that’s if you’re lettin’ him tell it—see, he’s a prophet for profit, 
and he’s a popular target for all the niggas that’s starvin’, 

so when it comes to cake, cake, cake, 
niggas only see what they can take, take, take, 
instead of living with the hate, hate, hate, 
maybe you should try to be awake, wake, wake.


[3]
They treat me like I’m not a rapper, 
I’m actually a poet. I know it’s a contradiction—I take it that they don’t know it’s
so similar. If I’m giving them words, and they on the beat, when I speak 
and they speak back, then we rappin’ but they’re so geeked that I’m not.
I don’t want to bearing no bad news. I choose to just nod 
like I approve, but I don’t. My God…
An arbitrary distinction is what I call it. 
I pardon the ignorance, but I’m bothered if you can live with it. 
Hardly the one to knock if you get it. Wanna define me?
I’m fine with it. Reading Nikki, ‘cause me and Miss Giovanni
be speaking the same language. I’m aiming to educate. 
Don’t mistake it for being passive—I’ll pass on the head crackin, 
but edifying’s an action I’m actively ascertaining, 
evaluating, arranging, defining, and then explaining, 
that learning about solutions is better than just complaining. 
The target at which I’m aiming is somewhere between your brain 
and your heart.
And I’m an artist. Not artificial a bit. Dog-eat-dog world, 
I’m starving up in this bitch. But rich,
if you consider I’m living chasing a dream, 
if they living chasing the CREAM, 
I’ll heat it up and be steam. I’m rising
above—just like the Phoenix—the flame’ll warm ya—
got a different mindstate, I’m cool like Arizona[’]s at night.
That might be a little out of your league. 
If you listen to rudimentary raps, then it’s not your speed, 
and I’m lapping you. Take a seat and just act like you get it, B….

Pound Cake [DREAMS]/Nikki Giovanni Music 3

"[Verse 1: Nas]
"Imagine smoking weed in the street without cops harassing.
Imagine going to court with no trial.
Lifestyle cruising. Blue behind my waters.
No welfare supporters, 
more conscious of the way we raise our daughters.

Days are shorter, nights are colder,
feeling like life is over. These snakes strike like a cobra.
The world's hot. My son got knocked. 
Evidently, it's elementary: 
they want us all gone eventually.

Trooping out of state for a plate—
knowledge.
If coke was cooked without the garbage 
we'd all have the top dollars.

Imagine everybody flashing 
fashion, designer clothes, 
lacing your clique up with diamond rolls.
Your peoples holding dough. No parole,
no rubbers—
going raw. Imagine law with no undercovers…

Just some thoughts for the mind.
I take a glimpse into time,
watch the blimp read “The World Is Mine!”

[Chorus: Lauryn Hill, Nas]
If I ruled the world…
[Imagine that.]

I'd free all my sons… 
[I love ‘em, love ‘em, baby.]

Black diamonds and pearls…
[Could it be? If you could be mine, we'd both shine.]

If I ruled the world…
[Still living for today, 
in these last days…]"

[Verse 2: A.D. Carson]
Yo, it’ll be paradise: Life, relaxing. 
Black, Latino, and Anglo Saxon—
Rainbow/PUSH with no Jesse Jackson. 
You’ll wonder how it ever happened,
that rappin’—just spittin’ flows—
no more entering through kitchen doors… 
Getting known for something other than the drama. 
Facing racism—even though we got Obama. 
We can still be honest, 
acknowledge and admonish. 
Take ‘em all to task, ‘cause a promise is a promise. 

Mommas would be mommas, 
and daddies would present. 
Children would be educated with practical lessons.
No arrested development; effort to empty prisons 
for better living—the type of place to raise kids in. 
Open they eyes to the lies History’s told foul. 
Teach ‘em the truth. Let ‘em know now, 
so we can grow how
nature intended—
reading spaces between the sentences.
Show ‘em they own image—let ‘em know that ain’t they nemesis.  

[Chorus: Lauryn Hill, Nas]
"If I ruled the world…
[Imagine that.]

I'd free all my sons… 
[I love ‘em, love ‘em, baby.]

Black diamonds and pearls…
[Could it be? If you could be mine, we'd both shine.]

If I ruled the world…
[Still living for today, 
in these last days and times.]

[Bridge: Lauryn Hill]
And then we’ll walk right up to the sun
hand-in-hand.
We’ll walk right up to the sun.
We won’t land.

We’ll walk right up to the sun
hand-in-hand.
We’ll walk right up to the sun.
We won’t land.

[Chorus: Lauryn Hill, Nas]
If I ruled the world…
[Imagine that.]

I'd free all my sons… 
[I love ‘em, love ‘em, baby.]

Black diamonds and pearls…
[Could it be? If you could be mine, we'd both shine.]

If I ruled the world…
[Still living for today, 
in these last days…]"


[Music: “Royals” by Lorde; produced by Joel Little
Lyrics by Nas, Lauryn Hill & A.D. Carson]"


Imagine This [Feat. Nas & Lauryn Hill]

"A dot—no comparison. 
Rap Thomas Edison. Arrogant. 
God son flow. Rhymes heaven sent.
Braggadocio, while they Pinocchio when flowing over instrumentals.
If I said it, best believe I meant it, 
‘cause my sentences be ventilation statements. 
Press breaking. Half baked. No smoker; still eating; have cake. 
Cream rises—
I am where I am—no surprises. 
Dream shake like Hakeem—stay posted—no denying I’m defiant. 
Miami Vice; Sonny squealing tires. 
Weight’s up—I’m the Jolly Green Giant with the science.

They feebler than the Keebler’s, hide in trees—so sweet. 
Want beef like vegans, so we simply won’t meet. 
Can’t speak. We don’t even eat off the same dishes. 
They dying for some fame. We don’t have the same wishes. 
Don’t do the same business. 
Go live—pour up.
You sell a bit; I’m celibate—I gives no fucks. 
Sell none, either. Hail one Teacher. 
Fail? Won’t ever. Tales so clever. 

Author like Chaucer, be the saucer in the sky, 
that they swear they saw flying with the lights whizzing by. 

Gemini [Jim and I]—put it on the Finn like Huck—
for my Niggas who would get it, either spill or throw it up. 

No colors. No gang ties. Just words. 
I was speaking on the stars, and the moon just occurred. 

Pit-bull, 
spit full clips, bullshit? No never. 
Ill state, still. Go getter.
Chill, no sweater—they better button up. 
I’m in a button down, bow tie, summing up,
like, “In conclusion, 
no confusing, me for you or you. 
I’m not doing 
what you cats call ‘rap,’ I call trash. 
And what y’all fans call ‘hot’ I call ‘gas.’

Can’t fuck with A dot. I must brag.
If you’ve been schooled, this’ not the same class. 
If you’ve not read, it’s still the same book, 
but not the same page, and not the same look. 

Dot’s the same guy that told you ‘don’t speak’
then gave you no doubts your flow was on E. 

I’m gone teach—I’m telling you, ‘hands down.’
Grand Prize Game was played by those clowns.

The Bozo Show, that’s sold on hope—
could have a needle in they vein and still won’t know dope.

Introducing—back from never leaving—
the critically acclaimed, recognized, never even.

Fire breathing, Midwest beast in
5’6” frame, plus flame still leaking. 
Still plain speaking. Raps woo ladies. 
Nine deep. Tang like booze. Euphrates…
In denial is where I leave all my rivals. 
Prey like a predator, while they praying for their survival...

Find a Bible."

Instrumental: "One," by Ghostface Killah [Supreme Clientele]"

One [Produced by JuJu]

"[1: A.D. Carson]
It’s the anti—everything that you believe you stand for.
Cancer that a man stores in his hands for
laying ‘em on parishioners wishing for some malignance.
I’m really just saying what I’m writing is sickening. 
What I’m writing is vision. 
What I’m writing is healing.
What I’m writing is flashes of lightning across the ceiling.
Flames from the floor, flickering, licking your feet to move you, 
fool you into believing that when you move, it’s the true you.
Voodoo dance from dude whose hands expand reality. 
Puppeteering, but from what you’re hearing, you do it naturally. 
And actually I’m to blame for it all—
I’m the reason, even your breathing—if you rise or you fall.
They said Hip-Hop’s dead. I said it must be a joke, 
‘cause if it’s really the truth that means I fuck with the ghost.
And I ain’t—above believing in what people don’t see, 
but I can’t—believe in it if don’t believe in me, 
so where are you? 

[2: Bad Dreams]
It’s that long night sleep tight now that you think you woke up 
Soaking in your psychosis I’m dosing you with the donuts  
You wading into them rivers just wishing for this deliverance  
You floating in them oceans and just hoping for your atonement
Cooking up something frozen
Cooling off the commotion
What I quote is drums invoking tongues of the chosen 
Black Rhapsodies Rap tapestries get woven 
Bodies contorted jerking the circle is never broken 
Like the slave embracing godliness, embrace the bodiless
Authorship beyond consciousness that’s where the party is 
Burn Down the plantation regardless
The ghosts told me never the fear the darkness 
that’s where the realest part is
They said the blues is dead I said it must be a joke 
Amiri Baraka handed me some smoke and I just took a toke 
And I ain’t above believing in what people don’t see 
I believe in ya’ll even when ya’ll don’t believe me 
So who are you? 


[3: A.D. Carson]
God bless the child that can hold it in. 
Believe…enemies bleed when I hold my pen. 
Let these words be the first to my unborn seeds
so they hear the voice of God clear—blast for me, 
blast for your you, and those who come after you.
Keep your peace, until they make you have to use it—
have to lose it—clear choice: after music 
comes the fall. So, really, what I’m doing’s for y’all. 
But you’ll never know the truth, never see it for self,
never believe ‘cause you can’t understand it, or else
have it chewed and spewed back at you, pick it up and endorse it,
then you’ll support it, get it to fit. If it don’t, then you’ll force it. 
They say my people are dead. I said it must be a joke, 
‘cause if that’s really the truth that means I’m talking to ghosts.
And I ain’t—above believing in what people don’t see, 
but I can’t—believe in it if don’t believe in me, 
so what are you?" 



Talking To Ghosts feat. Bad Dreams [Prod. by Preme]

"[Hook]
We voted for Obama now we here. 
Voted for Obama now the whole world fucking here. 
We voted for Obama now we here. 
We voted for Obama now the whole world here, nigga. 
Voted for Obama now we here. 
Voted for Obama now the whole world here, nigga. 
Voted for Obama now we here. 
We voted for Obama now the whole world fucking here.

[Verse 1]
We should have kept it real from the jump. 
Politics is politics. They tell us what we want, nigga.
We all gotta deal with that as fact. 
We like to think we different ‘cause our president is black. 

And that’s pro’bly not even the truth.
But it don’t really matter; it’s a good enough excuse, nigga. 
We thought we was voting for some change. 
In a lot of ways we prob’ly voted for the same thang. 

[Hook]
We voted for Obama now we here. 
Voted for Obama now the whole world fucking here. 
We voted for Obama now we here. 
We voted for Obama now the whole world here, nigga. 
Voted for Obama now we here. 
Voted for Obama now the whole world here, nigga. 
Voted for Obama now we here. 
We voted for Obama now the whole world fucking here.

[Verse 2]
First they said America was not his home.
They better watch they mouth before they get hit with a drone, nigga. 
Sure he got elected with a plan.
But nobody expected it would resurrect the Klan.

But that ain’t no excuse for all the hate.
People being racist, then pretending that they ain’t, man.
We thought we was voting for some change. 
In a lot of ways we prob’ly voted for the same thang.

[Hook]
We voted for Obama now we here. 
Voted for Obama now the whole world fucking here. 
We voted for Obama now we here. 
We voted for Obama now the whole world here, nigga. 

[Bridge]
No New Niggas—GOP don’t feel that. 
Fuck yo’ health care. They say they’ll repeal that. 
They don’t really do too much explaining.
You’ll forget it by the next campaign and…
No New Niggas—GOP don’t feel that. 
Fuck yo’ health care. They say they’ll repeal that. 
They don’t really do too much explaining.
Moving on and doing more campaigning.

[Hook]
Voted for Obama now we here. 
Voted for Obama now the whole world fucking here. 
We voted for Obama now we here. 
We voted for Obama now the whole world here, nigga. 
Voted for Obama now we here. 
Voted for Obama now the whole world here, nigga. 
Voted for Obama now we here. 
We voted for Obama now the whole world fucking here."

Voted For Obama [Now We Here]

Salute [Featuring C-Style]

"[1]
Muthafuckas—say that I’m foolish ‘cause I’m rapping for school. 
Do you fools read my reviews or do you just skim through ‘em? 
I’m influenced by the ghettos I grew in, 
the same dude who paid dues decided to change rules. 
Never been stupid, and won’t assume it of you, but if you
don’t see my picture I ain’t painting for you. 
It’s just music I meant for you to listen to. Don’t confuse it 
with what it’s not. If you can use it, you should use it. If not, 
then do what you do. It ain’t for you to…condemn or condone it.
 I make it, then I say it and I own it. 
Never promoted hate speech. 
I’m more for break beats, but if it takes me
using that to get from there to over here, then I’m a make these work.
You see, I see the folks I teach like a mirror. 
And when I teach me, it’s this type of approach that is clearer. 
So I’m a be me, and stand behind my ‘fuck you’ to critics. 
So if you get it, then you got it and you get it. It’s as simple as that. 

[Hook]
All I do is pass time studying for class rhyme writing. 
Last night it was a different one. Today I’m back like tomorrow’s coming. 
Reading what I’m needing for next time. Teaching, trying to earn my keep. 
Time keep running, so I’m on it. 
And I can only say it how I see it, give it how I get it, speak it how I live it, 
therefore, this thinking of mine you only get sixteen at a time. 

[2]
Since I’m in a position to talk to these kids and they listen
I ain’t an academic, but I’ll kick it with ‘em a minute. 
You see I teach and I rap, and some people call it a gimmick, 
but I never thought it was different. Just got in where I fit, it’s
not rocket science. If I am the most inspired by poems, 
and then I write ‘em. How can I be expected to go on
and live without it. Let alone, never do what I say. 
So take your Sophocles, and I’ll do what you’re doing with Jay. 
But just wait—this ain’t to say that what you’re doing is wrong, 
and I’m right. I’m sure there’s no two people who are alike. 
There’s pedagogical problems, and if I claim I can solve ‘em [and I might], 
who’s to say what I do might do for the night, but then tomorrow, 
the same thing that we saw being done is being done, 
I guess that kind of brings us back to square one. Where to start
is where you are. I say you do what you can. 
If you can’t, then I don’t think you should be teaching. I’m saying, just think about it. 

[Hook]
All I do is pass time studying for class rhyme writing. 
Last night it was a different one. Today I’m back like tomorrow’s coming. 
Reading what I’m needing for next time. Teaching, trying to earn my keep. 
Time keep running, so I’m on it. 
And I can only say it how I see it, give it how I get it, speak it how I live it, 
therefore, this thinking of mine you only get sixteen at a time. 

[3]
See, I’m a poet to some—sometimes I have to teach Shakespeare. 
A teacher debating if what he’s saying relates here
to the moment we’re living in, in America now
is wasting time. I say you put him up against rhymes
of some of the best of the present. Prepare your lectures accordingly, 
then you’re good. It’s not so boring being historically open-minded. 
Hope you find it a better approach. Research. He ain’t the only one who said what he wrote. 
And ain’t no story original. Every one is another. 
So every song that you hear is another lesson discovered. 
Another story uncovered to couple up with the canon, 
and the planning might be a pain. But give it time, understanding 
that’s a process. And there’s a lot less 
that you could do and do worse. And what’s a little bit of change gonna hurt?
Not much. Besides, they say that what we do is the future. 
So, that’s time that’s well invested if it’s reaching your students, right? 

[Hook]
All I do is pass time studying for class rhyme writing. 
Last night it was a different one. Today I’m back like tomorrow’s coming. 
Reading what I’m needing for next time. Teaching, trying to earn my keep. 
Time keep running, so I’m on it. 
And I can only say it how I see it, give it how I get it, speak it how I live it, 
therefore, this thinking of mine you only get sixteen at a time." 



S.A.T. [Part II] [Produced by Preme]

"[1]
If I could put it in an open letter
and tattoo that on my skin so I won’t forget it, 
I’d probably say something cliché, like “Hope is better.”
Knowing’s never an excuse for not trying to go and get some more. 

And they say we got a lot of nerve
to ask for justice, as if it’s something not deserved. 
When he went to prison it was ‘cause he had a lot to serve. 
Living’s like a game of chicken, and the mission’s not to swerve. 

So you get it how you gotta. Living for today and not tomorrow 
ain’t as hard when you starving. 
I thank my lucky stars to be able to say, 
it’s kind of like a fixed ball game, and you gotta play.

So you won’t catch me judging how he tried to find a way.
To make it from the first to the third ain’t ever safe. 
But winning’s like an inning. The rules of running the base 
is three outs, AKA, KKK [and you’re struck].

[Hook]
Still looking forward to a greater day, 
but I can’t say enough phrases to take the pain away. 
And we still straining through changes and living with dangers. 
As plain as I can say it, I wonder if we will make it. 
I ain’t looking to shake what I’m facing. I’m trying to break it. 
And if there was an easier road, I wouldn’t take it. 

If I was you, I wouldn’t take it. 
But I’m just me, and I won’t take it. 

[2]
If I could tell you how I really feel, 
I’d tell you it’s a real cold world with an infinite chill. 

No need to say what you already know. 
And if you sleeping then the po-po is like NoDōz. 

No indictments, no rights when they violate you; 
repeated disrespect when you asking them why they hate you. 
Land of Brotherhood—if my Brother’s under a hood
and terrorizing me, then my family ain’t all that good. 

And if the hood’s a badge, and my brother’s shooting me down, 
and other family members see others looting the town, 
and blame it on the victim, then we gotta change the system 
for our daughters and our fathers and our mothers and our sisters. 

If I could tell you how I really feel: 
America, here and right now, feels like the Killing Fields,
because we’re fighting for rights, and nobody’s civil still. 
Sometimes it’s hard…believing this is really real. 

[Hook]
Still looking forward to a greater day, 
but I can’t say enough phrases to take the pain away. 
And we still straining through changes and living with dangers. 
As plain as I can say it, I wonder if we will make it. 
I ain’t looking to shake what I’m facing. I’m trying to break it. 
And if there was an easier road, I wouldn’t take it. 

If I was you, I wouldn’t take it. 
But I’m just me, and I won’t take it. 

Still looking forward to a greater day, 
but I can’t say enough phrases to take the pain away. 
And we still straining through changes and living with dangers. 
As plain as I can say it, I wonder if we will make it. 
I ain’t looking to shake what I’m facing. I’m trying to break it. 
And if there was an easier road, I wouldn’t take it. 

If I was you, I wouldn’t take it. 
But I’m just me, and I won’t take it." 


If I Could [Tell You] [Produced by Truth]

“[1]
This one for the niggas,
the ones that was called that descriptor
when they was delivered 

out there in Virginia,
the ones ever since who have taken the care to defend the 

people surrendered from coast to the coast to the cold and the whip of the lash, 
I never lived it, but I’ll tell now…
boy it’s familiar.
Said, boy, it’s familiar. 

For the gangs with the chains on they hands and they ankles it ain't just a sankofa song.
For the Kings, whether Martin or Rodney, who knew it unlikely but asked could we all get along!
For the answer we know to that question that keep us a little suspicious,
We ain't the first that have wished it. 
We ain't the first ones to get it. 
Said, boy, it's familiar.

For the mothers, the daughters, the sisters
who don't get attention but often are victims,
so they suffer in silence from all kinds of violence
and try as they might we don't listen.

For the beatings, the treatment, the rapings, the hangings and lynchings,

I hope that we can be forgiven.
I never lived it, but boy, it's familiar. 
Say, boy, it’s familiar.

All black on my windows,
pistol under my pillow,

if I'm an activist, I'm no pacifist.
I'm just keeping shit real, though.

I ain't turning a blind eye, 
and I ain't expecting no heroes.

I ain't pressing no 911, 
but I ain't living in fear, though.

[Hook]
Now what?
The same shit. The same shit.

Now what?
The same shit. The same shit.

Now what? 
The same shit. The same shit.

Now what? The same shit.
Now what? The same shit. 

Boy, it's familiar,
mess with them boys, and they kill you,
then get a lawyer to deal with 
annoying appeals to
the public to show 'em they did 'em 
a favor destroying a villain.  

No, you ain't living

if you know you ain't living
but seconds away from a sentence,
making a way for a system.
You die or they take you to prison.
Take what they know you ain't giving.

[2]
This one for the niggas
who just got from prison,
or on they way, stuck on the ave. 

Hustle from morning to evening for things that they need
or the things they can have.

City's so cold, that you gotta fend for yourself, they compare it to Iraq, 
‘cause it’s a war that we live in. 
Imagine the war when our children say “Boy, it’s familiar."

For the gangs and the fame
and the whips and the chains
and the game that we play through the pain

that we drench ourselves in when we win
since we win at the game then it seems we should call it Champ Pain. 

Elevated—we taking the L but we winning, 
‘cause we still living. 
Living through pain, but we living. 
Giving through strain, but we giving. 
Boy, it’s familiar.

For the mothers, the daughters, the sisters
we don't give attention but often are victims,
We inflict them with violence
and tell them to suffer in silence, so why would we listen?

For the beatings, the treatment, the rapings, the hangings and lynchings,
I hope we can be forgiven.
I hope we can be forgiven.
Boy, it's familiar. 

All black on my windows,
pistol under my pillow,

if I'm an activist, I'm no pacifist.
I'm just keeping shit real, though.

I ain't turning a blind eye, 
and I ain't expecting no heroes.

I ain't pressing no 911, 
but I ain't living in fear, though.

[Hook]
Now what?
The same shit. The same shit.

Now what?
The same shit. The same shit.

Now what? 
The same shit. The same shit.

Now what? The same shit.
Now what? The same shit. 

Boy, it's familiar,
mess with them boys, and they kill you,
then get a lawyer to deal with 
annoying appeals to
the public to show 'em they did 'em 
a favor destroying a villain.  

No, you ain't living

if you know you ain't living
but seconds away from a sentence,
making a way for a system. 
You die or they take you to prison.
Take what they know you ain't giving.” 


Familiar [Produced By Preme]

24 OF THE BEST ARTISTS IN CENTRAL, IL ALL ON 1 ALBUM HOSTED BY 217's WORKHORSE, UNCANNY, AND MIXED BY THE #1 DJ IN THE MIDWEST, DNY!!!!!!!

04 - A.D. Carson - Familiar

Call Me (Feat Desiree)

Son Shines [featuring C - Style]

"People ask me why I say the shit I say in front of white folks,
as if the things I say should just remain with me and my folks,
but why folks
be thinking my communication’s harsh

when sentences they say have niggas locked behind them bars,

and stories they be telling and be publishing in books
will turn around and make fucking saint out of a crook.

And faces that I look at doing crime ain’t just like mine
but you won’t get that picture if you stay inside the lines
and so I stay inside a mind dividing time on either side of truth and lies
because we’re meant to scrutinize. Who decides who we get euthanized by?
Not shootings, drive bys,
or “black-on-black crime,”
I’m wondering ‘bout them white lies
that they be telling you and I ‘bout you and I in U-N-I-
versities so verses be the the truest kind. I’m looking for congruent minds to match my wits with.
When truth get hard, they nitpick.
But I ain’t trying to argue with no nitwit.

[Hook]
So you can go tell ‘em I said it. I meant it. I’ll tell ‘em myself if they willing to hear it.

[I ain't running away from my words
just make sure I said what you heard.]

You can go tell ‘em I said it. I meant it. I’ll tell ‘em myself if they willing to hear it.

[I don't care it you're feeling disturbed
or that you feel it's absurd.]

You can go tell ‘em I said it. I meant it. I’ll tell ‘em myself if they willing to hear it.

[If my word is my bond
I gotta be certain that I'm
observant and working with mine.]

You can go tell ‘em I said it.
I meant it.
I’ll tell ‘em myself.

[2]
I don’t need another February. Seldom, very rarely, next to never
should you put the education ‘bout your greatness on oppressors.

So what he has to teach you
comes more from how he treats you.
And not just when he need you or your people.
I peep bull.
It’s all beef.
And I don’t have no cares ‘bout what they call me.
I’m all me.
And for that, I’m not sorry.
So hard we work to hardly herd the heart that hurts the hardly heard,
and we’re disturbed
by how often that pot is stirred.
So when they turn and say it’s race bait when I’m calling out race hate
I keep on talking. I ain’t trying to placate
or waste space trying to debate the hate haters create with its creator.
I make haste. Lying ain’t got no place in my relations.
So statements ain’t offending me,
nor is your opinion of me,
it’s more or less the the moral-less supremacy.
Since people have them tendencies from coming through this system we call living
I guess they think that shit should be forgiven. It ain’t.

[Hook]

[3]
I don’t want you to do me no favors.
I don’t want you to do me no solids.
I don’t want you to teach me your hatred.
I don’t want to be ruled by your scholars.
I don’t want to be seen as your problem.
My problem is what you created,
then you framed it as if it was me,

insisted that you should debate it.

I take it as kind of a compliment
that I often get the blame for the shit that I cannot control.
But if we discuss it, it’s really insulting.
I come from the people whose land that you stole,
bodies you took. And I can’t trust a guy who’s a crook
with a view that denies me a look,
and then puts it inside of a book that they teach me to read, if they do,
it’s to treat me like I should be shook.

And that's only the half.
I'll travel the loneliest path
doing felonious math,
erroneous, maybe, but these are the stakes: the baloney you gave me

is created from wrongs that have made me
the man that you hate, see?

But it ain't me...
so it can't be.

That American Dream seems like hell of a scheme.

And it’s deep…’cause in order to dream, then you gotta be sleep.

And what am I, but a guy interrupting the lullaby?
And if that don’t work. So what, I try.

[Hook]

[Outro]
E. Dunlap: Y’all remember that story about Issey?
Old Sawney’s daughter?

You know, they say she tried to burn down the plantation house.

Shit...

I wish she had’ve done that shit.

And you can tell ‘em I said it...

‘cause I did."

Talking To White Folks [I Said It] [Produced By Preme]

"[Hook]: 
You can call ‘em best in the West or the best in the league. 
Best of the best or the best that we see. 

Those are big shoes to fill ‘til we see
who’s the real MVP. 

They was tested together, but they’re better on their own. 
Let’s see who is inheriting the throne. 

[Verse]:
Now that it’s head to head we can call it because it’s started. 
Dearly departed, this here’s not for the faint of heart. 
But instead, it’s a question, one you can ponder, and even wonder. 
Search the sky for the gods, only one of ‘em brings the Thunder. 

One of ‘em came to Rocket, and truly ought to be feared. Not just for the beard. 
This guy’s truly out of this sphere. 
But not for nothing, with Russ in the discussion, then we talking ‘bout 
the league leading scorer taking everything and walking out. 

Few words from the curious crowd.
If not a Trey, he’ll stop, pop, like Furious Styles.
They leave audiences screaming more mo’, boy.
It’s like Harden be serving ‘em from the do’, boy. 
Giving out dishes, then torching and burn they home.
Medusa to the shooter. They look and they turn to stone.

They out to win, and really won’t get it subtle. 
And that’s how you explain the fifty point triple doubles. 

[Hook]: 
You can call ‘em best in the West or the best in the league. 
Best of the best or the best that we see. 

Those are big shoes to fill ‘til we see
who’s the real MVP. 

They was tested together, but they’re better on their own. 
Let’s see who is inheriting the throne. 

Those are big shoes to fill. Will we see
who’s the real MVP?"