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Cornflakes
by
Joell Ortiz
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Yeah These streets is cold, n***a They killin' n***as in parked cars and sh*t Keep your head on a swivel Keep that machine on you Yeah Live life and rap about it Rap about it, n***a I could lay n***as flat as a underscore (But) It's my art I want you to love me for I could show you the guns I brung to war Why would I jump off the roof for the feds and hang myself with a bungee cord? Long arm of the law, don't let them suckas reach us Some of you haters, spectators, leavin' your nose bleedin', in the upper bleachers And you rap n***as, f**k your features (Word) The God flow touch your speakers, you need to come to Jesus Don't count the bars on this one So many firе lines, it's gon be hard to pick one I'm just baring my soul ovеr guitars and kick drums You remember every word I record, wait Let me tell you a story, September 23rd is my born date Little Crooked, shaking roaches outta my cornflakes Nothing trendy, all my fashion was worn late Mama's smokin' a joint, gettin' higher than the divorce rate My pops was a navy vet, overheard him yellin' "We ain't got no money, them crackers ain't pay me yet" We was in crazy debt, I could see why he maybe left His white counterparts runnin', and he takin' baby steps Mama's solo now, she's throwing Aretha Franklin She dance around with a smile, but underneath, she achin' I'm being ignored in cla**, I think my teachers hatin' the value I placed on Education's depreciatin' (Drop out) My brother started slanging dope, gave him hope It's like they gave him more life when they gave him coke Yeah, he bought me a starter jacket, my favorite coat My cousin was bangin', he told me "The streets ain't a joke" (Nah) Then he put a gun in my hand Yeah, rusty .38 with tape on the handle Bumpin' NWA, starch in my d**kie pants Yeah, bad boy at the party doin' my itty dance Yeah, if it ain't about hoes, I ain't have any plans It was me and my n***a, Bo, my man fifty grand He had a beef with his older brother, shot him over nothin' Hunnid tears dropped as he told his mother Damn, why he do bruh that way? One in the pen, one in the grave, she lost two sons that day I bought two guns that day Nah, I'm lyin' 'cause I didn't buy 'em, man We hit a lick at the pawn shop Drove a crackhead's truck right through the front Non-stop, gla** crashin', it sound like a bomb drop Alarm going off crazy, I grabbed the duffel bag With some watches and jewelry and it ain't got a couple mags Bounced out of that b*t*h, went to my uncle's pad Thinkin' I'ma end up in jail, just like my brother's dad Damn, it's the environment, bro, crime is a full-time job Ain't no retirement though Old man told me, "Your generation is violent for sure And the cemetery's the only place you dyin' to go" (Go, go) And he gave me a book Called "The Destruction of Black Civilization" by Chancellor Williams Opened my mind to some knowledge I never had before, yeah Started readin' more books, went down a rabbit hole, yeah All your ignorant questions, I got the answer for Like, "Why y'all stuck in the hood, actin' like animals?" Poverty's pandemonium, red-lining the properties Probably that colonial cologne you got on, I could smell racism in the inst**utions The victimizer victimize ya and say "Stop being a victim" The sh*t's confusin' So when I be cruisin' the Benz, that sh*t is a big illusion You writin' songs about your diamonds, my gems are in the music Unify today or you can die today To keep them roaches outta your cornflakes, you decide the way But if you go down the wrong road, you know how the story go (They got ya) Say hello to the homie Bo (Hey, what up?) N***as homeless and hungry but they don't want us doin' crimes Stole the whole f**kin' country but we the ones who doin' time Keep my third eye open, I pay attention to the signs To my homies that died, see you on the other side I see y'all on the other side Not now, I got a lotta story left, you know East Side
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