Anthony Tidd

Yeah it would be cool it could be too
Stop Running round in circles off of what we fuel
Living a lie eventually believing it's true
A lot of people here for us one could be you
It's outrageous and they just ain't nothing
But save us an ocean of brown fists in various flavors
A favor for a favor man, this is the majors
Tell me what you would do with no phone or pagers
No Kinko's, no Fed Ex and no ATM's
What you gone do when the poliece state vegin
Well it already began but I guess it depends on what's really going on
what's happening, huh
Military target practicing
They finna write another patriot act again
The days is short the nights is long
The fight goes on
The pistol and the pipes are drawn

Hook: The middle of the night
We fight like barbarians
In sight of the former might
You might think that it's a waste
Of our time
And I think you would be right
Till he drop that rhyme
(Repeat)

And some might say that it's a waste of time
Cause ain't no amount of dancing finna break the bondage
We go to war and transcend space and time
When every record ain't a record just to shake behinds
You know the stakes is high we in the face of drama
That's why we can't shake it or escape the problem
Its like a game of roulette the barrel revolving
They only wanna see us occupying a coffin
Mothers crying too often from they lost child leaving
From trying to get over, get under, get even
Get inside getting, getting dumped, getting greedy
We got to get it right
It ain't about to be easy
You better pull you goggles up, it's about to get greasy
Believe it's on as long as we can still speak freely
Pages of my life would make it hard to read me
I know my people hearing me, holler it you hear me

(Repeat Hook)

[Chorus: sung 2X]
I don't care, as long as the bassline's pumpin
The drumline bangin away
Make one move and I'll blow you away
One false move and I'll blow you away

[Black Thought]
Yo - I don't really know but somebody said
that the O.G. flow, it could fuck witcha head
And the po-lice know that the green black and red
too strong to con-trol, they study what I said
Dig it - my name is 'Riq, and when I'm on the mic
I'm known to spit somethin that these MC's hate
I couldn't care less what you feel what you say
Cause I gotta put it to you in my own special way - I'm a MONSTER!
You know I'm certified sick
I came from the corner where nobody got shit
Took the cards I was dealt, turned it into hot spit
Now I'm not only a passenger, I'm in the cockpit
Been a long time comin, I was caught in the scramble
of cats, tryin to do the same thing that they man do
Eagles born to fly, real is made to ramble
"A Dangerous Mind," I'm a prime example

[Chorus]

[Black Thought]
Superfans wanna run up on me sparkin the ground up
You need to fall back, could be NARC's around us
You in a hot area for marchin powder
If you holdin chowder, just walk without it
Them real crook brothers don't talk about it
They never make a move 'til they thought shit out kid
I knew a lot of men who did bids for mayhem
They made a lot of money, they money never made them
The game of survival is filled with rivals
Knives and fo'-five slugs flyin in spirals
The wicked is diseased and it ain't all viral
Could be greed and gluttony bubblin inside you
Dawg, follow your pride, the rhythm'll guide you
Yo, follow them guys, them niggaz'll rob you
And have you up in somethin that dont' really involve you
But you don't give a fuck you wanna pump the volume, I know

[Chorus]

[Black Thought]
Yo, aiyyo the waistline thumpin, the face kinda jumpin the game
Lookin sweeter than a bassline bumpin
Don't come 'round me sparks and waste time frontin
Them trick ass marks'll get the eight-five dumpin
It ain't really bout nothin - Philly just love cuttin
They shut shit down before the law start shuttin
Get your route right cousin - be out nightclubbin relaxed
And wanna get lights out tonight brother, perhaps
It's the percussion that keeps shit, kinetic
For some it ain't as fame, more sweet the street credit
Some cats that play dirty didn't live, to regret it
But move to the music he can live through the record
I'm a Philly boss player, a dope rhyme sayer
It's Black Ink back gettin cake by the layer
by the stack, comin at us, get your weight right yeah
If not, you makin a mistake right there, f'real

Muffled sound of fist on flesh
Blows to chest
No breath
Air gasps
You ain't nothing but white trash, bitch!
With each hit, each kick, each...broken rib
Crack, Crack!
Bones are crying
Mommy's crying and bleeding
And pleading
And then...
Daddy wants to fuck
Dick hard, swelled with power rush
And as if all that wasn't enough
Mommy's seven months heavy with birth
As...Daddy grunts and cursed drunk nothings in her bloodied ear

(singing softly)
First...lullaby
First...Son...will...ever...hear
And never forget

Mommy almost bled to death when she have him...finally
She'd already lost...three
Uterus-bruised, shredded, and weak
From being daily beat
And Friday nights were the worse and...
Daddy never came with flowers
Instead he spent hours at some corner spot
With some bar pop named Cookie
Putting his thing down
Soiling Mommy's sheets with...
Sweet...talk shit
Cookie's cheap lipstick
Hair grease, sperm, and jezebel juice

To hell with the good news that...
He was a father for the first time
His thirst for wine and women
Clouded his vision...
No warm welcome for mother and son
Just...
The rank smell of ass-crack, funk, and cum
But Mommy's prayerful strength-her best defense
She...burned the dirty linens
Made a fresh bed
Laid sleeping First Son down
And never made a sound
As she purged her scourge
With birth-blood and quiet tears
Watching as her fears and love and sacrifice
Lie there in his soft skin and new life
Breathing, dreaming, fresh from God's eye
Mommy's little survivor
Like...her

Mommy called crazy and scorned
'Cuz she two more born
One boy soon after
The girl much later and...
Although they were both sung the same lullabies of hate
Her...First Son, the first one
Whose...womb-world was profaned
Came of age playing street games
With Stewie, Rezzie, and Little Brother
'Till his heart start to wither
In pain and shame
Blamed Mom for the wrong she let Daddy do to her
And him...
Let...sins of the Father cause his Innocence to wander
Found honor amongst thieves
Chose to squander his dreams
Stopped believing in himself
Become prodigal with his life
Make impossible shit right with...
Gang-ties, crime, lies
Erase wise, woeful words of Mother
Replaced them with absurdities of others
Who had also lost their way

Played a different kind of street game now
First Son plunged deep
Speak street-family vows
Espouse no causes but his own
See, he couldn't protect Mommy's neck from Daddy's grasp
Or...protect Mommy's ass from Daddy's wrath
Couldn't shield her ears from...
Daddy's foul-mouthed, liquor-breath jeers
His only defense-served be confidence
Brown bottles housed his swift descent
Phones called cops on block frequent for his shenanigans
Now...Daddy and him twins in addiction
Driven to false-hearted heavens and friends
By liquefied demons
Had become what he despised from Conception 'til End
Destined for a demise
Survived nine lives of staying high
Conning, jewelry-pawning, arrests, theft
Womanizing...only for money, never for sex
Bullet in chest, baseball bat to the head
Left for dead
So, eyes wide and glassy
Speech...slowed and slurred
Lips twitched with caked-up codeine candy
And mouth corners one December 24th
Mr. Hide and False Friend
Took final ride to suburban supplier
Shots were fired by the gray man
With shaky hand
But not shaky enough to miss...
Hit...Lost Boy in back
So-called Friend runs for door
Leaves First Son blood-born
Lying alone in blood on cold floor

Death was the cause of...
Returning to Innocence Lost...

Baby 'Sis awake for dawn on Christmas morn
To Mommy's sobs and shakes
Daddy's silhouettes of regret
All past, omitted, and absolved by lost
As they clung to each other
Knowing...