Land of the Freestyle
I come from the land of the freestyle
The land where we smile
No matter how wild
Matter how mad or sad you have to be
In order to be bad as you
Or as black as me.
I get out of the blue thunderbird, stand to see
My confidence in my back and in God’s canopy
And I see everyone in my direction
Any proud black man or nigga infection
Any white boy “wannabe black” voice inflection
Young, Old, Native-American or Mexican.
Walk to the spot walk stop, it’s too hot.
See an outline in chalk from a cat who got shot
Last night, red ink still trails from the last fight
Footprints in the blood from the cats last flight.
I walk past the jazz spot with the picture of my late cousin
Who had a bent trumpet from fights playing the dozens
Got his name back in the day from tryna cut Cab Calloway
They called him "Dizzy Guillespie",
And that's been my name since his last days
Walk past history to the cat speakin’ mysteries.
Lesser informed cats speak of 2Pac and his theories
I see the sage for five dollars and the licorice root
Blunt wraps for smokin’ lies while we still claim to speak the truth
Everyone got dreads on the block to be unique
Except for the one cat who’s moms cut his off in his sleep
Finally round the corner, get to the Kaos Network
Put in a donation much less than my net worth
Get to the mic Get to the night, past the hype
If they don’t like you then they boo you speakin’ “Please pass the mic”
I ain't nervous, herbs get the worst of service
Boo’d off the stage, it’s the worst! I’ve heard it.
One by one, one is done, on to the next
Now I'm shaking as I think about some prewritten text.
But I think of the stress that leads me to be defeatist
Stand on stage depleted in my new blue adidas
It fools you to see it ‘cause I don't front like I’m hard
Just waiting for real gangstas to come pull my card
Then I realize the insanity, who did I plan to be?
I can’t be me, because the industry just isn't having me
Society cant’ contain me, so they tried to change me
I change the game, asked the game why it came to defame me
I said "I can’t see god when you stand in my way!"
But it's hard to say "Move! Get out the way!"
"Get out the way *crash* get out the way!"
Done forgot everything I was supposed to say
And then they pass me the mic,
Initiation to the night.
The situation isn’t right
I got fear, fright or flight.
But I gotta be real to my hip hop spirit
Spittin lyrical scriptures faster than my ears can hear it
Thinking spherical with these lyrical spirituals
So every lyrical mirical that I spit is critical
I paint scripted pictures to the beat
Mother’s scared for me ‘cause of the chalk outlines in the street.
But when I “keep it real”, it doesn’t matter what I think.
Hip hop speaks through me, verse libations poured in ink.