On Doing an Evil Deed Blues

When Big L verses was like decoding hieroglyphics

Back when my mission was still fillin' composition books

Working how I spit the and how my mic position look

Adolescent crook, lost up in the maze

Frankie Beverly, rapping in my book was a phase that weighed heavily

Rearranging bars and then they properly placed

Whole pages scribbled black from all the sloppy mistakes

Made a promise that I'd go and split the gwop with my ace

If I ever made a mill' for merely rocking a place

I used to like to rhyme when there was never any pressure

When your own bars were stone cold and beat you on a stretcher;

It wasn't business it was pleasure

I heard God through a boombox lampin' on my dresser

Hip-Hop, the most progressive music in the bunch

We hear tracks from '05 on a flashback lunch

Cause we move ahead every 30 seconds

So hows it been 40 years and all we fucking rap about is weapons?

Murdered upon the railroad and laid in a lonesome grave

I wrote some raps, I had a couple fire lines

I dropped a tape, I did a show, I got some shine

Never made a lot of money; that's fine

I got some records, cut some samples, made 'em mine

I wrote some raps, I had a couple fire lines

A couple labels asked me if I want to sign

But rapping ain't my grind, I just used to like to rhyme

I used to like to rhyme when it was all about linguistics

When Big L verses was like decoding hieroglyphics

Back when my mission was still fillin' composition books

Working how I spit the and how my mic position look

Adolescent crook, lost up in the maze

Frankie Beverly, rapping in my book was a phase that weighed heavily

Rearranging bars and then they properly placed

Whole pages scribbled black from all the sloppy mistakes

Made a promise that I'd go and split the gwop with my ace

If I ever made a mill' for merely rocking a place

I used to like to rhyme when there was never any pressure

When your own bars were stone cold and beat you on a stretcher;

It wasn't business it was pleasure

I heard God through a boombox lampin' on my dresser

Hip-Hop, the most progressive music in the bunch

We hear tracks from '05 on a flashback lunch

Cause we move ahead every 30 seconds

So hows it been 40 years and all we fucking rap about is weapons?

Art is imitation, creation is forever

Innovation is spontaneous, never

A lot of rappers put the work in so you could be clever

Everything is everything is everything is everything, ever

The blues won't born in a bunker

Nothing can be born until you know how to hump her

Im still married to America, most you rappers dumped her

But you too blind Blake to see the spell they got you under

I got some records, cut some samples, made 'em mine

I wrote some raps, I had a couple fire lines

I dropped a tape, I did a show, I got some shine

Never made a lot of money; that's fine

I got some records, cut some samples, made 'em mine

I wrote some raps, I had a couple fire lines

A couple labels asked me if I want to sign

But rapping ain't my grind, I just used to like to rhyme

Murdered upon the railroad and laid in a lonesome grave

Murdered upon the railroad and laid in a lonesome grave

Murdered upon the railroad and laid in a lonesome grave

Murdered upon the railroad and laid in a lonesome grave

Murdered upon the railroad and laid in a lonesome grave

Murdered upon the railroad and laid in a lonesome grave

Murdered upon the railroad and laid in a lonesome grave

Murdered upon the railroad and laid in a lonesome grave