R.A.P. Music Album

Artist(s): Killer Mike

Cover Art

Killer Mike R.A.P. Music Cover Art


Big Beast

length: 3:55
producer: El‐P
vocal: T.I., Killer Mike, Trouble and Bun B
writer: Michael Render, Jaime Meline, Kevonte Campbell, T.I., Bun B

[Verse 1: Killer Mike]
Hardcore G shit, homie, I don't play around
Ain't shit sweet bout the peach -- this Atlanta, clown
Home of the dealers and the strippers and the clubs, though
Catch you coming out that Magic City with a snub, ho
Lurking in the club on tourist motherfuckers
Welcome to Atlanta -- up your jewelry, motherfucker!
These monkey niggas looking for some Luda and Jermaine
And all a nigga found was a Ruger and some pain
Pow, motherfucker, pow! Come up off the chain
Pow, motherfucker, pow! One off in the brain
We some money-hungry wolves, and we down to eat the rich
Your bodyguard ain't shit, we strip him like a stripper bitch
These real-ass killers move in silence with violence
The minute it set off, we the motherfucking wildest
How you from Atlanta they ain't never speak upon
Where everybody got a sack of dope and a gun

[Hook: Trouble]
And you know just how it go
We ain't playing round with that bullshit
Nigga, we ain't let that shit go
When you come here, you better come correct
This real G shit, you gotta show respect

[Verse 2: Bun B]
Once upon a time in the projects
An O.G. saw a young Bun B as a prospect
Thought that I would understand the streets from a very young age
So he opened up the G code to the front page
He sat me on the porch, said, "This where little dogs sit"
Pointed at the yard, said, "That's where big dogs shit"
He said, "Don't leave til your ass get growed
And don't come back til your ass get throwed
Whatever you want is whatever you can have
Bring the pain and leave em wet, like they soaking in some salve
When you step out on the ave, make sure they wanna see ya
Cause being trill is an onomatopoeia
Be about it like a G, a hater wanna catch you slipping
Try to be a Jordan, but settle for a Pippen"
Player, I ain't even tripping, but I don't really care
Cause my pistol's in your face, so put your hands in the air


[Verse 3: T.I.]
'96 I'm riding with a pistol grip, banana clip
From Simpson Road to Adamsville, I'm repping this Atlanta shit
Nigga trying to handle up, let's see can they handle this
A hundred round at em, that ain't no Louisiana shit
Drinking on that Hennessey, blowing on that cannabis
Amerikkka's nightmare, trap nigga fantasy
A record full of felonies, searching for a better me
But choppers go off in my hood like Iraq, Cuba, Tel Aviv
Shoot a nigga, let him bleed -- fuck him, shorty
Sucker nigga I'll never be, don't give a fuck about it
Quick to run up on that Audi, make em get the fuck up out it
Nigga better be about it, he deserve it he allow it
What's a coward to a kamikaze?
He ain't robbed a man, ain't predator or prey; the law of nature where I stay
I catch you slipping with that K, ain't no illusion, no confusion
Better come up off that cake and all that jewelry or you're snoozing


[Verse 4: Killer Mike]
Wha-da-da-dang, wha-da-da-da-da-dang
Listen to my Kimber .45 go bang
Bang bang, Grindtime, rap game
We the readers of the books and the leaders of the crooks
Predators, we eyeballing all of y'all lames
Let me fall off, I'm taking all of y'all chains
All of y'all watches and all of y'all cars
Well, who he talking to? All of y'all stars
All of y'all rappers and producers and such
No homo promo, homie, you might get your ass touched
Like Def Jam circa '83, you get rushed
If you rolling with some winners, then you rolling with us
I know some dumb country niggas, but them niggas ain't me
Know they dress and look the part, but them niggas ain't G
I don't make dance music, this is R.A.P
Opposite of the sucker shit they play on T.V



length: 3:54
producer: El‐P
vocal: Killer Mike and Scar
writer: Michael Render, Jaime Meline, Kevonte Campbell, Scar

[Verse 1: Killer Mike]
You are witnessing elegance in the form of a black elephant
Smoking white rhino on terraces
Will I die slain like my king by a terrorist?
Will my woman be Coretta, take my name and cherish it?
Or will she Jackie O, drop the Kennedy, remarry it?
My sister say it's necessary on some Cleopatra shit
My grandmama said nope, never, that it's sacrilege
Tend to agree because the thought is so disparaging
The Lord give a load, you got to carry it like Mary did
That's why I'm giving honor to all these baby mommas
It takes a woman's womb to make a Christ or Dalai Lama
The world might take that child, turn that child into a monster
The Lord'll take a monster and fashion him a saint
I present you Malcolm X for those who saying that He can't
Saying that He won't, when I know He will
You usually don't know it's you until you getting killed
For real

[Hook: Scar]
Dear Lord, have mercy
On the ones that go through life like it's a game
Dear Lord
I won't be forced to shut up when I don't feel the same
Cause people gonna lie
Some people gonna steal
You gotta be careful not to shit where you live
Them people might try to have you killed
Lord have mercy, life is such a battlefield
For real

[Verse 2: Killer Mike]
I ain't never gave a fuck
I never did and never will
Live my life on principle
Keep it true, keep it real
Better said, I keep it trill
And no matter who don't like it, homie
That's just how it is
Naked truth like the stripper that's in front of me
And I keep a blunt and a Bible and a gun on me
Why? Cause I'm country-bred
Actually, I'm south-er-ern
Something like my brethren
The legendary Andre 3K, Cee Lo, Goodie, and some other men
You should pay some homage, it's an honor this
This is not a fiction that is sold by conglomerates
This is Soul of Black Folks mixed with Donald Goines shit
Better said, Robert Beck, esoteric I could get
This is John Gotti painting pictures like Dali
This is Basquiat with a passion like Pac
In a body like Biggie, telling stories like Ricky
If a rapper was to spar, please tell him better kick it
You with me?

[Hook: Scar]
Dear Lord, have mercy
On the ones that go through life like it's a game
Dear Lord
I won't be forced to shut up when I don't feel the same
Cause people gonna lie
Some people gonna steal
You gotta be careful not to shit where you live
Them people might try to have you killed
Lord have mercy, life is such a battlefield
For real

[Instrumental Interlude]

[Outro: Killer Mike]
I don't trust the church or the government: Democrat, Republican
Pope or a bishop or them other men
And I believe God has sustained me with rap
So I pick a burning bush, put it in a Swisher wrap
And they can't kill a G, I seen how I die
I'm only going once, a coward dies a thousand times
Until that chariot come and take a nigga home
I'mma spit this ghetto gospel over all these gutter songs
I'm gone


length: 1:54
producer: El‐P
vocal: Killer Mike
writer: Michael Render, Jaime Meline
[Verse 1: Killer Mike]

Yeah, still Killa Kill from the ville
With a flow so cold it'll froze your nose
Something like the blow did back in the 90's
When I sold to the geeked out hoes
Must be the reason my flow so dope
Not dope meaning c__e but dope meaning dope
What's that Killa? Y'all n____s don't know?
So School's in session, let's go
Dope s___ get you 75 a brick that bullshit
c__e just gets you 24
Like my n____ told y'all n____s back in '96
The difference between a 4.0 and a 4.6
And you're on my d___
Get up off the polo draws
Y'all ain't seen a rapper this cold 187 since above the law
n____ with an attitude like Eazy, Ren, Dre and young O'Shea
f___ that punk a__ Glock he got on the block
I'm gonna hit him with the K
Have a n____ singing like Michel'Le
Have a n____ missing like JJ Fad
Beat a n____ dead like JJ dad
d___ d___ James! Why you make me mad?
s___ got d___
I go ham
I go off
The gun go blam
I go in
I go hard
I go stupid oh my God
Shumalumadumalumashmalumaduma even when I ain't saying s___
Got AK word play might put a pause in you life just like a comma b____!


[Verse 2: Killer Mike]

Let everyone know that the bad guys back
And he got a gun and he's dressed in black
Terrorist flow and I'm ready to attack
Bombs over Baghdad yes Iraq and Iran and I am
The m_________ing man with the m_________ing plan
Sitting with the strap on my m_________ing lap
I put the s___ to your m_________ing naps
38. snub to your Nap' a__ dome
I can get you straight like a pressing comb
I go ape straight King Kong
Y'all monkey-a__-n____s better leave me alone
I'm a gorilla so I get realer
I spit hot fire retro Godzilla
Homicide maniac brainiac
Sipping on a pint of 'yac
In a Cadillac
I'm Killer killer killer killer killer killer
I did
These many shows in these many days
Had these many bricks got these many paid
That's 1,1,2 in these many ways
Indeed I say the opposite of living in need
I say is greed they say
I say no way f___ get money
Stack your hundreds alright ok? Go!

Southern Fried

length: 4:38
producer: El‐P
vocal: Killer Mike
writer: Michael Render, Jaime Meline
[Verse 1:]
Welcome to this country fried bonafide
And my flow is sweet as a potato pie
Never been a sour apple, I'm a now-or-later guy
I'mma tell her something sweet and she gon' lick me later, guy
Hello to my hater guy, how you doing sir
I know you got mean words
But keep them to yourself unless those murders will occur
Cause I'm from killa kill Adam Hill right next door
Bowen Homes and Dixie Hills, Allen Temple Wildwood and Plainville
These m_________ers murder here in plain sight
Everyday broad daylight, they ain't right
s___'s loco out in Zone 4
Since the '80s it's been that way though
My n____ uncle died shooting back at the po-po
He went out but he ain't go slow though
Even hit the cop back with the 4-4 though
Got buried in the Rolex, Jordans and a polo
n____ died pretty as a pimp in a photo
Woah-Woah-- Yeen heard fat boy
He ain't say that boy, don't even try to act, boy
That fat black m_________er got a way with the words
I tell you, he can rap, boy
Respect my words like a rabbi
I'm a porterhouse, you a m_________ing ribeye
Hate on me to your girlfriend, she gonna look you dead eye
Tell you "So? m_________er he still fly."

Ain't I fresh, Ain't I clean?
Ain't I riding through the city in the meanest machine?
(Ain't I??)
Ain't I one-hundred player for sure
Ain't I slick bout pimp game and just might mack on your ho
(Ain't I??)
Ain't I fresh, Ain't I clean?
Ain't I riding through the city in the meanest machine?
(Ain't I??)
Ain't I one-hundred player for sure
Ain't I sleep my pimp game and just might mack on your ho
(Ain't I??)

[Verse 2:]
So fresh, so clean, rolling down the street so slow, so sweet
Like a cup of codeine. Smoking on that Irene
With a sweet country girl named Irene
I lean, Feeling irie, I be
Strapped to the m_________ing T so please don't try me
My Chevrolet lay b___ naked on the asphault slow flashing her high beams
And I'm still in the company of Irene and we been joined by Maxine
We maxing, relaxing, chilling, double-stacking
And me being the West Side player that I be I'm trying to see what's happening
And what's happening? But not menage, in my garage
With these two young ladies, is the reason I I-dee-daz
That's "All Day I Dream About" That s__ing
You texting, hoping that they call you
I just barbecue and call 'em up and say "Hey fall through"
You know it's shrimp and lobster tails
And they into a room with lots of players
My partners young black millionaires, and they all about some money
Yeah youngin it's a double entendre, you ain't gotta wonder when you ask for Wanda
"What you been doing?" "Hanging out with Shawnna." Yeah, you nuttin' honey


[Verse 3:]
Moet? Rolex. Big Benz, no flex
Wedding ring on finger, I married a Trina
Pretty as a singer, Fine as a stripper
When we in the strip club strippers try to tip her
I don't want no dance, ho, get up off my zipper
You ain't try to rip me if you ain't try to rip her
We like Bun and Pimp b____, see we is a duo
This that Ball and J s___, we don't need no new ho
See I've got a suave mouth which purchases my suave house
This that 2Live Crew s___, I rap a lot about new s___
This that country rap tune southern fried funky s___
I am the antithesis or opposite of monkey s___
And that's some education for ya'll thinking we unlearned
Cause I often play that Gucci crew and walk around with perms
And we bought them '95 Impalas paint them b____es orange
We gang-stars like Preem and Guru cause respect was hard to earn


Jojo’s Chillin’

length: 2:58
producer: El‐P
vocal: Killer Mike
writer: Michael Render, Jaime Meline

[Intro: Killer Mike]
This album was created entirely by Jaime and Mike

[Verse 1: Killer Mike]
My man JoJo got a caught on fed photo
So he gotta get out of Atlanta hit SoHo
Baby mama say he been selfish, he like "so ho?"
Then he picked up the cell phone called his old ho
She took him to the airport, hit him with some bread
Parked in the deck, then hit him with some head
Hit the counter with the fake ID and the ticket
The old man little suspicious but he hit him with a fifty
Hit him with a hundred, hit him with the "Shhh..."
The old man stamped the ticket and he went like "Shhh..."
Then he hit him with the smile, and he hit him with the wink
And JoJo hit the bathroom, JoJo hit the sink
Cold water, had to splash on the face
His iPod pumping Snoop "Murder was the Case"
Oh shit, looked to his left, Ghostface
"Peace God, Peace God, where's Shallah Rae?"
"Think he had show down in M.I.A today"
Ghost told him "nice Wallies" then went out on his way
Now it's back to reality, reality say:
Still gotta make it to that side of the gate
He moves out the bathroom quickly with haste
And it's a long line, it's a while before the gates
And it's an old lady giving Jo the evil eye
Mad cause she see him cutting spaces in line

JoJo's Chillin'

[Verse 2: Killer Mike]
Back in line JoJo spot Ivy
Girl from the hood that he knew from NYC
TSA agent so she cleared him on the ID
Before he go through X-ray he taking off his shades
Taking off his jacket, arm out the sleeve
Reached in his pocket, oh shit got weed
He done made it this far, whats Jo to do?
So he stuffed it in his pocket
And he walked right through (He walked right through?)
He walked right through
Then the TSA agent say "She pointing at you."
The old lady that had seen Jo cut line
Went to a officer and tried to drop dime
But Ivy wasn't having that, stepped to the copper
Told him that the old lady's ID wasn't proper
Now the old lady getting treated like a terrorist
Cop got his hand where her grey pubic hair it is
After this though she gonna have to see a therapist
JoJo found the situation hilarious
Threw the old lady's deuces, heading to the train
Concourse A, headed to his plane
Arrived on time, they called the first class
Upgraded ticket took a little more cash
Jo's relieved, hes almost free
Can't wait to land in the NYC


[Verse 3: Killer Mike]
Seat belts on, seat back up
Triple shot of Seagram's in JoJo's cup
A little too much he felt the stewardess up
She said "Stop, sir!", he looks like "What?"
Gave a big tip then he headed to the bathroom
When he got there told her "Hey, it has room"
Turned the bathroom into a smashroom
She was hitting lines he was hitting from behind
Look up in the mirror saw Ghost another time
"Peace god, pardon god, I ain't see ya Wis'
Lean toward the mirror cause I gotta talk biz"
Ghostface told him only 20 to LaGuardia
When you get there a car take you to Astoria
You don't want the alphabet boys on call
So tell the stewardess to make a wheelchair call
Wheelchair came, deboard plane
Jojo couple old folks and they canes
Exiting the door he seen a dog walking slow
Couldn't dump the weed, nowhere to go
Turns out the dog sniffed out that blow
Good thing the stewardess a cokehead ho
Cause they bumrushed the bitch
And threw her ass to the flo'
Jo told the wheelchair boy "Let's go!"
And Jo got away that's how the story go



length: 4:10
producer: El‐P
vocal: Killer Mike
writer: Michael Render, Jaime Meline
..of the bullet
Some freedom...
What we ever do...just keep sentiment for..
We brag on having bread...
We all talk having greens, but none of us...
If none of us will make us
If none of us... and none of us grow weak
Then who will feed our people when our people need to eat?
So since our people starve for lack of understanding
Cause always seem to give them some bowling and some dancing
..and imaginary mansions
We should be... for worship we're...
..children death, impotent and it's exciting
We are advertisements for agony and pain
We explore the youth, we tell them to join the gang
We tell them dope stories, introduce them to the game
..introduced us to cocaine
In the 80s when the bricks came, military plane.

The end of the Reagan era, I'm like twelve
Old enough to understand the shit that change forever
They declared the war on drugs, like a war on terror
What they really did was let the police terrorize whoever
But mostly black boys, but they were coloured niggers
..while they think it's only triggers
They boost with all my...
And they would be... we have diamonds on our watches
And they would take our drugs and money as they pick our pockets
I guess that that's the privilege of police...
But thanks to Reaganomic... turn to profits
Cause free labels... to you it's economics
Slavery was abolished unless you are in prison
You think I ambush... the 13 amendment
..that's why they're giving drug to...

While Reagan was the actor, not at all a factor
Just an employee of the country's real master
Just like the Bushes clinging on Obama
Just another talking..
If you don't believe the theory, then argue with this logic
Why did Reagan and Obama both go after Qaddafi?
...going after oil
Take the country to the...
... say they're coming for Iran
They only love the rich, and how they love the...
If I take anymore, they may be on my door
Who the fuck is dead staring on my window
Doing that surveillance, I'll miss...
I'm dropping of the.. before they pop the..
I leave you with the words, I'm glad Reagan did!

Don’t Die

length: 4:09
producer: El‐P
vocal: Killer Mike
writer: Michael Render, Jaime Meline

[Sample: Dick Gregory]
How come...with the thousands of black cops in America...you ain't never picked up the paper, turned on the TV, or the news...and seen white folk crying...because this black cop...shot my loved one in the back of the head...cause he thought the cellphone was a gun. How come you don't see that?...You think black cops is...more spiritual? You think better qualified? Nah...They got enough sense to know that white folks ain't going to tolerate it...And the only reason they do to us what they do cause you tolerate it. Ok, I'm not telling you don't chastise these young men! But I ain't see you chastise the police!!

Hahahaha Real bad guy shit
Hahaha Living like a villain
Never chilling heavy influence on your chillun

[Verse 1]
I woke up this morning to a cop with a gun
Who told me that he looking for a nigga on the run
I thought for a second and I screwed my face
And asked them dirty pigs, “Why the fuck you in my place?”
He said “Chill or we kill, this is a warning”
Then I told him “Fuck you, where is the warrant?”
Then they got to punching and kicking and macing
Then the whole situation went Larry Davis
Thinking ’bout my lady and thinking ’bout my baby
Thinking, “Is these motherfucking pigs going crazy”
They wanna kill a nigga ’cause a nigga on his rap shit
Wanna leave me dead on a mattress, Hampton
I’m a Public Enemy because I’m Cold Lampin’
And I don’t give a fuck about a party in the Hamptons
And I don’t give a fuck about a motherfuckin' Forbes list
Far as I’m concerned, that’s a motherfuckin' whores list

Motherfucker, my dad was a cop
You don’t think I know a dirty ass cop when I see one?
Shake down, take down, disrespecting-the-badge-ass-bitch!

[Verse 2]
Back to the scene going wild in the bedroom
Grab the cop’s gun left from leaking with a head wound
Second cop shot, but the bullet hit his partner
Shot him in the leg and he hit a main arter
Now the dirty cop’s looking at me
Talking ’bout he kill a nigga if I try to flee
Shit, I’m about to lose it, so he gon’ have to prove it
All because the government hate rap music
I’ve been labeled outlaw, renegade, villain
So was Martin King, so the system had to kill him
A nigga with an attitude, the world gotta feel him
Educated villain, Intent on living
If I gotta kill a cop just to get out the building
That motherfucker gettin' left dead no feelings
Yelling “Fuck him” as I buck A 45 at his fillings
Trying to knock his brains through the motherfucking ceiling

[Verse 3]
When I surface on the streets I can hear the crowd yelling
And see the neighborhood snitches pointing and telling
I’m bailing like a felon or Assata Shakur
Before the law leave me stinking like a bag of manure
Like Jeriko One in the movie ‘Strange Days’
They want a nigga dead ’cause the things that I say
Might make the youth go and pick up an AK
Tell the government “Fuck you, no way”
Like John Connor mama I be running everyday
‘Cause if I get caught it’s my life they terminate
Or stick me in a cell on Guantanamo Bay
All because a nigga won't submit and obey
I’ll be an outlaw before I ever behave
And die a free man before I live like a slave
Nothing changes, if they catch me today
“Fuck the police” is still all I gotta say

Ghetto Gospel

length: 4:41
producer: El‐P
vocal: Killer Mike
writer: Michael Render, Jaime Meline
And I'm seeking on the edge of my beer holding my head
tryin to make this stake like a baker
and you some bread
my mama said hustle and dust come with faith
time do the crown you'd better be prepared
for what calms with it the killer they call conviction
snoring bitches just snitches often to get it quit it
while the real set the queeze it, why the way why they live it
and all because I say dope shit they on a mission
then nail my black answer the wall with a conviction
I pray the law real me but really law is a ..
pray and when I'm in trouble I speak with full palm
I say I not became but I'm..like George John
I must be in the clutches just sayin it's all one
my mama took you to the related to read my palm
she could beach on my ..say they protected em from harm
but f*ck is all witch ..winning got a gun

Oh Lord, Jesus, glory
Oh Lord,
Oh Lord, Jesus, glory
Oh Lord

Looking at the bezzle of my brighten
Thinking that I used to rap for enlightening
but I got led by them god selling lies for the white man
Now I sell pies a gospel white here
and my tour bus is.. the move..
this must be the high we felt when the revolution failed
and I open it and talk em on ..
you know the finish falls but it feels like yeah
I may have lost my cause but not my reason to rebel
revolution that we ..I'm in jail
and the seals call me nigga either way when I'm in nail
just like they've being popped
just like they being me
just like they moving ..if they see
and ain't just not this if does doesn't ..
for my people and my people free forward
the Lord never break us if we never wanna call
you know

Oh Lord, Jesus, glory
Oh Lord,
Oh Lord, Jesus, glory
Oh Lord

Even as I'm standing here iceless, Mike is, priceless
Women with me prettier than Isis
Don't know if she black or a white chick
but I know this p*sy and excitement
gonna need to indictment
the women and the fame put shade on enlightenment
other scene dark days come to many brighten
out the scene the day I'm dime fine
as the fine one take the nine..mine
people depth don't blind
f*ck you with them ..hore
liars of Delilah even Mary Anne looking door
pretty ..she would..see you what they used to
stone cold bitch she must..
dope bad ass p**sy might ..
who an ..not in love what don't get it the ..
she don't need a bar .. she just need a booster
She the devil's pie guy, you his fuckin rooster


Butane (Champion’s Anthem)

length: 3:19
producer: El‐P
vocal: Killer Mike and El‐P
writer: Michael Render, Jaime Meline

[Verse 1: Killer Mike]
(Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah)
Looking for the truth, yeah it's me
Everything Polo to the floor though, even at the grocery store though
Picture perfect, take a photo, and take the pic you biting bitch
And go and stitch a logo (Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah)
Hit you with the quatro, but my girl Mercedes
With the Audi say that Quatro was a two door so a typo
You can put on Killer Kill, Fat Boy, or just Michael
Call me what you want but still never call me rival
They will call you dead and I will call you gone
The Lord, sweet Jesus, will be weeping calling your ass home
If underground rap royalty is what I’m meant to be
Then I will be the shit and you ain't shit to me

We the ones, we the winners, we the champions
Champagne at the end of our campaign
Spit fire, naked truth like the blue flame
Like the blue flame (Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah)
Let me see your hands up if you do the same
Caught the plug and we bolt like Usain
More money, more power, more butane
Burn the motherfucker down, down

[Verse 2: Killer Mike]
Life's a bitch so I mack on her immaculate
I don't wear no monkey watches, Rolex is too accurate
My rhymes are actually accurate, meaning I don't fiction in my diction
To the masses, this perfection is performed through many practices
Like prostitutes on mattresses, this shit just come naturally
Easy as Osama’s bombers takin many casualties
Like Columbine I’m down for mine I’m here to kill the faculty
Killin them or killin me, this is my soliloquy
Iller than the illest beat, I will spit the illest shit
From right here to infinity, Till I reach the dirt
I will search the earth endlessly looking for the illest, see
Ain’t nobody lyrically as ill as me, 'less Eazy-E
Come back from A.I.D…S yes
Get a beat from E-L-P, ghostwritten from my partner T.I.P
Cube and me and we time travel back to 95
Jumping in a 63 Impala playing Cuban Linx

Yo Mike they fucked up putting us together man

[Verse 3: EL-P]
Yo, I'm a Grinch with a grin, I will shit on your kids
Get a life, get a grip, get a hold on my dick, bitch, make a wish
I'm a knife, I'm nothing-that's-nicer-than-getting-sliced-up
The switch, the machete, the feti Yeti, the shyster
Icer, getting-closer-to-Christ ya
Might just find that the design of your life is an angel hair short of divine love
I stink, I just stuck up a truck that said Brinks
I'm a Sphinx, snorted so much that my nose just broke off, think
I’m alone again, clutching a loaded Glock soaked in chromium
Hoping that the thought police just don't bust in my home again
Life is tough, you'll get snuffed in the buff
So dystopian, ruff ruff, hear the call of the copper mutts on the hunt
What the fuck, this is not what my mother said I'll become
Star-spangler wranglers got my hopes on the run
Getting closer now, maybe our society's supposed to drown
Middle fingers up on the Titanic as it's going down


Anywhere but Here

length: 3:32
producer: El‐P
vocal: Killer Mike and Emily Panic
writer: Michael Render, Jaime Meline
Moving through New York City in a black seven fifty
Like Batman moving through Gotham
Dodging pot holes as I gently move
Through Harlem with my wheels on slalom
Pain in my eyes as I'm passing the place
Where they found Sean Bell and they shot him
Forty one times, he committed no crime
But I guess life ain't Times Square
But in the city that's gritty where the bottom is shitty
Where the mayor's a billionaire
You learn Manhattan keep on making it
And Brooklyn, keep on taking it
Cause life just ain't that fair
For the kids in the park, watching out for the Narcs
Putting Sour Diesel in the air
Trying to flip them a pass, that they got a couple back
And make them get the hell out of here!

Let the city peel away right from under you
There are too many clouds in the sky
I can hear them calling out to me
I can hear them calling out

Let the city peel away right from under you
There were too many ghosts in this town
I can hear them calling out to me, out to me!

Let the city peel away
There are too many ghosts in this town
I can hear them calling out to me, out to me!

I maneuver through the ATL in a black SL
With the goddess of a black female
This is black male Heaven with the ballers are professing
But to me home feels like Hell
Even though it's black cops from the mayors to the top
Black blood still gets spilled
They raided a house, no drugs were ever found
But a black grandmother laid killed
Like the dream of the King when the sniper took his life
On the balcony of Lorraine Motel
From now forthward, these young black boys
Seem to self-sabatoge they selves
Or maybe they're just smart, and they choose to go hard
Cause they know the good guy will fail
So you ask what happens to a dream deferred
Langston, well it kills itself (Atlanta)

Let the city peel away right from under you
There are too many clouds in the sky
I can hear them calling out to me
I can hear them calling out
Let the city peel away right from under you
There are too many clouds in the sky
I can hear them calling out to me
I can hear them calling out
Anywhere but here

Willie Burke Sherwood

length: 4:24
producer: El‐P
vocal: Killer Mike
writer: Michael Render, Jaime Meline, Wilder Zoby
No matter how good a woman is, she still can't really teach him to be no man or daddy

[Verse 1]
Used to walk around with a head full of naps
Chubby young kid with a head full of raps
Doing what he can, just trying to adapt
Jumped to the block off of grandma's lap
Jumped to the block, so did every emcee
But gotta tell the truth, yeah, the block wasn't me
Lookin' for adventure, but the block was not
The block was real, Woo got killed
Half a year later, Big Spank got killed
And I got robbed, and Ronnie got shot
And I bought my first tape by 2Pac
And I got hard, cause I was smart
I knew that the weak and the meek couldn't make it in the street
Had to a__ert yourself to survive
So I convinced myself it was better for me
To be Jack in the *Lord of the Flies*
It's a book I read, books I read
Cause I'm addicted to literature
As a young boy rollin' 'round with the clique
Cause of that I was insecure
I was insecure cause I realized
Ain't no room for the civilized
When the wild men rumble in the jungle
And that's why Simon and Piggy died
Ralph survives, but he lives changed
Nothin's the same, s___'ll drive a man out his brain
Drive a young man insane
My cousin Jimmy had a breakdown he ain't never been the same
And he never will be again
If I could fix his brain
Take back the crack in his mind
Give it all back, you can have the racks and fame
I'd give it all back in exchange

This is for the dads and the grandads
And the little homies that ain't never had dads
This is for the uncles and the OGs
And the lil homies, and the YGs
This is for the men I look up to
And all the struggles that the men had to go through
For every man that's ever had to man up
If that's you, let me see you put your hands up

[Verse 2]
I lost my youth, chasin' my youth
Made me a youth in the back of a coupe
Teenage love, like Slick Rick said
I hit her with my Dougie and I had a gold tooth
Fur Kangol, Filas too
She was light-skinned red gold tooth
But of course it didn't last cause I had to go to college
And she was still in high school
d___, I'm a dad, this is bad
This ain't good, my baby's in the hood
And I'm walkin' 'round the black ivy league campus
Like I wish you house n____s would
So I go get a job, UPS
Where they treat you like BS and
You all know how the story goes
Drop out of college and sell 'ses
I figured I'd invest in studio time
Drop rhymes, have success
But, mostly I got fronted on, stunted on
n____ dealt with some stress
I'll take that two, take that three
Cause my momma got to see me on TV
And my grandmomma got to get her Grammy
And my grandaddy got to see his boy eat
See his boy grow, I wish I never had that show
I wish you never had to go
Wish you could meet my wife, wish you could see my life
But you had to see the light
Wish I had you one more day
Wish I had tomorrow that's your birthday
We can sip gin, straight get fade
We can ride old schools through the trey

This is for the dads and the grandads
And the little homies that ain't never had dads
This is for the uncles and the OGs
And the lil homies, and the YGs
This is for the men I look up to
And all the struggles that the men had to go through
For every man that's ever had to man up
If that's you, let me see you put your hands up

R.A.P. Music

length: 4:27
producer: El‐P
vocal: Killer Mike
writer: Michael Render, Jaime Meline, Wilder Zoby
I’ve never had a religious experience
in a religious place
plus survive every come in the feeling Goddes
let’s make a rap music

RAP music is my religion

WHat I say might save a life,
what I speak might save street
I ain’t got no instruments
but I got my hands and feet
hands on clapping feet on..
adn the beats to make the slap
and I’m riding with my rap
and they all tight is my nap
and the .. is all I got
and this beautiful evidence skin
and the music get my heart
and the work is put in the wind
coming back like a boomerang
when I take this microphone
when is the grab start to sing

2 x Hook:
This is jazz, this is funk
This is soul, this is gospel
This is sanctified sick, this is player Pentecostal
This is church BBQ
Amen pulpit
What my people need and the opposite of bullsh*t

We the..that mudder..that change bro and that dust ..
to that ray ..that even wonder that may feel
super fly they weed the..this that blues mad
that..that outcast that sun and ..Cadillac
this that Jimmy hit that George clean
now ..leading my balls ..some mall
that..they love king they love spring
..this bitches brude that..

[2x Hook:]

I got things to do for..we in the sky
and my baby girl be their six months wave she gonna be fine
so I pray to Lord to spear me and I make it bound bound
and I help so stay out of here
would I testify
and make the win I grab that microphone and never lie
that the ..he’s spearing I won’t have the feel that..
so killers killers don’t spit that..
each and every song, each and every palm
to the good don’t call em hoe

[2x Hook:]